Saving Private Soldierbot
by Sanctus Cecidit
Summary: The robot wars are over, and Gray Mann is long dead, but not forgotten. The future is bright for the mercenaries, but less so for the one remaining active Scout robot. Frustrated, lonely and bored, he discovers that he's actually not as alone as he thought. Will he be successful in his attempt to save the poor broken Soldierbot he found, or will his actions endanger everyone?
1. Prologue: Meet The Reporter

_Author's Note: Holy crap, look! It's a story! Yep, I've been writing again, and in my usual slightly obsessive way, the entire story is written and on my hard disk (and another hard disk for backup). Various people begged me to write something about the abandoned Soldierbot, and after some thought...this happened. The final length is 46k words, divided into two Prologues and eighteen chapters, and needless to say, you need not fear it will peter out without finishing. I will be publishing updates on Saturdays and Wednesdays, I think, because I like to make people suffer by making them wait._

 _I'm afraid I won't be able to illustrate this one as much as my previous stories, because I don't have the models I need. However, there are some scenes I know I'll have to create, and I'll link the url when I do._

 _I can't quite decide whether to call this a sequel or not. It's set after the events of Send In The Clones, but it's more a story set in the same universe than a true sequel. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Either way, if you're new to this story, I strongly recommend you start with 'You Need to Get A Head' and work your way through in sequence.  
_

 _Let us begin..._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Prologue: Meet The Reporter**

 _In a time of universal deceit - telling the truth is a revolutionary act._ – George Orwell

 ** _The Pauling Institute for the Betterment of Mankind, The Bahamas, 2002._**

It's good work, being a news reporter. It's something I always wanted to be.

At least, most of the time. Sometimes, when things go really bad, it can be hard to take a step back and remember that reporting _is_ helping. People need to know what's going on, and if you tell the world, maybe more people will help. More people will care. As someone once told me, 'Someone, somewhere, has to give a damn.'

Wow, I didn't mean to get so gloomy! Anyway. It's tough work to get into, lots of competition for the best posts. Of course, it helped that I'm a redhead and look good even when I haven't showered for several days and heck, they don't need to know my hair colour comes from a bottle, right? This job makes you so cynical.

So, you wanted a story? Let me tell you about one of the strangest interviews I ever did. This was way back, decades ago, when we still had to travel by cars because the teep network wasn't in place yet. I was just an ordinary freelance, hoping to sell 'human interest' stories. Those are the ones they shove in at the end of news broadcasts to make it seem like the world isn't full of misery and rage. Cat Climbs Tree and Rescues Person, that kind of thing.

It was a few months, maybe a year, after that scare with all the robots. 1972, I think? I am guessing you were just a kid then, right? Oh...not even born? God I'm old. Ok, well, the attacking robots just vanished, poof, like that, and this new institute opened up in the Bahamas: The Pauling Institute for the Betterment of Mankind. Yes, of course you've heard of it. It's famous _now_ , but back then, nobody knew what it was, why it was there, or what the people in there were up to. They had taken over a group of small islands in the Bahamas and all the world governments were sort of quiet about it. You'd think the US would care that this business was there, paying no taxes, obeying no laws, and just sitting there, right? No. Nothing.

All of us freelancers were keen to get in there and nose about. There were so many unanswered questions: Where did the money come from? Who was this 'Pauling'? How did they have so many employees and yet had never recruited? _What was the secret?_

So, I sent letters, phone calls, telexes, all the usual. I bet there were hundreds of us all trying to crack that nut. For some reason, I won. I still don't know why. Maybe they just picked me out of a hat? It would be nice to think they admire my skill, but really, I was just lucky. I got a letter that simply read:

 _Dear Miss Aquilina,_

 _We would be happy to give you a short interview, but we must insist on no cameras and access to the final recording for approval. We would like to extend an invitation to you to visit our main site in the Bahamas on the 15_ _th_ _February at 12:00._

 _We have many interesting projects we wish to inform the world about and we look forward to meeting you._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _(horrible squiggly signature)_

 _The Administrator._

I thought I could make out a P in that signature, so I guessed it was Mr Pauling. Or was he Dr Pauling? Either way, I was going to meet the man himself! I remember going cold with excitement.

Yes, yes I _know_. But this was a different time, right? People assumed things they don't assume now, and thank God it changed. Better for my career, anyway.

It was my first big break. Of course, I didn't know how big this thing would become back then. Nobody did. I just wanted to make enough money I wouldn't have to hock my typewriter and go back to working as a secretary. As I said, I was just lucky. Journalism is like that: it's mostly luck. That and sore wrists.

So I turned up at their doorstep at the right time and the right day. I was really nervous; shaking hands, butterflies in the stomach, spending the morning stuck on the toilet, you know the drill. I had instructions on how to get there- drive to a certain point, and wait.

At midday precisely, an old blue-grey vehicle rumbled across the bridge to the main complex and stopped beside me. That was the first odd thing- why did such an expensive-looking place have a horrible beaten-up old truck like that?

A shortish man with shaven hair and a scruffy blonde beard came hopped out of the truck and waved cheerfully to me.

"Miss Aquilina?"

Yes, I know it's an unusual name. Don't ask me about it. This story is long enough already, ok?

"Yes, pleased to meet you." I replied, switching into 'reporter mode', and giving him my best charming smile. "I have an appointment to see..."

"Yeah, I know all 'bout that. Name's Dell Conagher, pleased to meet ya. Call me Dell." He extended a gloved hand and I shook it. His hand seemed odd- sort of hard and cold (the second odd thing), but I gripped it firmly. Men have this thing about handshakes- why finger strength matters, I don't know, but this is a man's world, isn't it? Or it was, back then. Still is, sometimes. "Well, aren't you a lucky gal."

"I don't know, am I?" I replied with a disarming smile tinged with just a little calculated nervousness. They never tell you this in English Lit, but you have to be able to act to be a good reporter. I played the charming, slightly dumb journalist like a professional. However, he just gave me an amused smirk, as if he saw right through my careful act. Maybe he did, for all I know. His eyes had that glitter to them that you only see in really intelligent people- the types clever enough to laugh at themselves for being smart. Have you ever seen it? Look out for it in future, ok?

"You sure are." He assured me. "We've had to pick through a whole load o' letters and yours came top. It was polite and we felt that...well, you were the one for the job."

"Very kind of you." I said nodding seriously.

"The Administrator's ready to see you. Ready for a ride?" He asked, patting the hood of the decrepit truck. "Not often I get to take the old gal out these days."

"Oh, this is your truck?"

"Sure is." He replied with a wide grin. "Bought her, took her to bits and built her from scratch. Now hold on, she can go real fast when I put my foot down." He turned the key and the engine rumbled to life with a soft hum.

"Ok, I..." Then, odd thing number three happened- he put his foot down and the engine didn't roar- it purred, like some top level sports car. The battered old truck was such a smooth ride it almost seemed to float.

Perhaps I should explain how the Institute was set out at this point. It consisted of a main tall building with a few scorch marks near the top (Odd Thing No. 4), and a number of connected buildings, all on small islands connected with bridges, like a spider's web. The big building was the only complete one, and all the smaller buildings were covered with scaffolding. Obviously, a lot of things had been built recently. I mentioned this to Conagher, and he gave that wide grin again.

"Yeah, we've had a busy few months since we got here."

"Nice place, this. Must have been great when you got recruited to this company." I commented. The man just snorted and smiled slightly.

"You could say that. Yep, you could indeed."

"Where did you work beforehand?" I asked, looking down at the sparkling sea as we crossed the bridge. It was pockmarked with what looked like bullet holes. Odd Thing No. 5.

"Well, see, that's one of those things I can't tell you." Conagher explained easily. "The Administrator will answer your questions- or not."

"Wait- you can't tell me where you last worked?" I asked in surprise. "How can that be classified?"

"Oh, no classified. Nothin' here is classified." He replied with a laugh. It was a pleasant laugh, but somehow I didn't trust the man. I was starting to wish I had brought my pistol, but interviewing people while threatening them with a gun doesn't give good results usually. "It's just we're not tellin' you. Not sure you'd believe any of it anyways."

"Try me." I insisted.

"Heck no." He said flatly, and even though he was still smiling, I knew better than to press it. "Anyway, here we are."

The truck stopped as quietly as a luxury limousine, and we got out. As I stepped down, a short, slender woman with dark hair, about the same age as me, came out of the building holding a clipboard and tapping a pen on it.

"Here she is, right on time." Conagher said.

The woman gave me a tight smile with no warmth to it, and held out her hand. I shook it, and she almost crushed my fingers.

"Pleased to meet you." She said, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

"See you around, l'il missy." Conagher said with an idle wave. I opened my mouth to tell him what I thought of being called 'Li'l Missy', but he was already walking away.

The woman by the side of me snorted. "He calls me that too. Annoying, isn't it?" She glanced sideways. "So, want to have a look around?"

"Be my pleasure." I assured her. "I can't wait to meet this Administrator of yours."

Her lips twitched. "I bet you can't. Come on, let's go inside."

The reception area was like all offices everywhere- polished floors, slightly sickly house plants, mahogany desk, the usual. There was no one behind the desk, so I guessed the women guiding me must be the receptionist. I felt slightly irritated, and wondered if my meeting with Pauling would be one of those where they just shake your hands, give a false smile and tell you to push off, while his assistant did all the work. It happens a lot, especially when you're starting out. I decided I'd just have to live with it and get the best report I could.

"Well, Miss Aquilina, I guess we can start. We invited you here because we wanted someone who would report the facts and not try to get information out of us that we're not going to share." The woman said briskly. "You're doing us a favour, and we simply ask you report what you see, and we'll tell you what we want the public to know. Deal?"

"That's what I agreed to." I said simply, privately deciding that I'd see about getting away from my guide at some point and 'get lost'. She gave me a hard look, but then shrugged.

"Through various careful and lucky investments, the Administrator was able to buy out several large multinationals, and decided that the money would be best used to fund research by the finest minds in the world, rather than just for profit."

"That makes a change."

"True." She suddenly gave a grin that softened her face and made her look a lot more friendly. "I'll admit the shareholders weren't happy at first, but we gave them a few carrots and it helped."

"'Carrots?'" I asked.

"A little early tech from our medical section: a broken leg mended within a day, a child's cleft palette fixed...enough to convince them we _are_ worth supporting."

"A broken leg mended within a _day_?" I asked suspiciously.

"Let me show you one of our projects." She reached for her large handbag and took out some sort of walkie-talkie made of grey plastic. It seemed so small it could only have been a child's toy, but it beeped when she pressed it and a voice squawked out of it. I couldn't make out a word, but she seemed able to understand it just fine.

"Med..." She stopped suddenly and cleared her throat. "...Gerhardt, I've got the journalist with me. Is the medigun running?"

 _Squawk, squibble, hiss._

"Alright, I didn't mean to...ok, ok, it's always ready for use, I get it! Is there anyone in need of treatment?"

 _Hiss hiss scrabble?_

"No! Don't do that, you don't need to...Medic, I said _no!_ "

 _Screeth weet klup._ The voice said in a placating tone.

"I don't care if he doesn't mind." She sighed and put her hand over the mic for a second. I knew the gesture well myself. "You've already done it, haven 't you? Ok, ok, just...make sure the lab is clear of... _people_. No, not him. You know what I mean. The others _like you_."

Odd Thing No.6, right there.

She turned and gave me a sudden smile. "Some of our staff are a little eccentric."

"Seems it's that way everywhere." I replied, smiling back. I decided I rather liked this woman.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea!" She replied cheerfully. "Let me show you to the medical labs. I can show you another little bit of tech on our way."

"Hey hon, you busy?" A good-looking, slender young man suddenly burst into the room.

"Yes I am," She said shortly, "but I can give you some time from 4:35 to..."

"We got these..." _Another_ good-looking, slender young man banged the door back and barged in behind the first one. I blinked. Not only did they have the same clothing, they were absolutely identical.

"Shit." The first one said. They glanced at each other.

"Uh...we'll..."

"...Come back later, ok?" They turned around and I saw the first one give the second a punch to his shoulder. There was a mutter of complaint as they slammed the door behind us.

"Identical twins." The receptionist explained. Her lips twitched slightly, as if she was thinking of a private joke. "We employ a lot of... twins here. Even a couple of triplets."

Odd Thing No. 7.

She strode over to a set of double doors and opened them. I looked through and my mouth opened, all the previous weirdness forgotten for a moment. I had expected stairs, or an elevator, but instead there were four spinning disks of light floating just above the floor- blue, red, white and purple. Once my initial shock had worn away, I realised there was some sort of machinery beneath them.

"What is _that?!_ " I asked, completely forgetting to be the whole 'cool, professional journalist' for the moment.

"Teleporters." She gave me a grin, obviously enjoying my surprise. "They will instantly take you wherever you want to go within this building. Their range is- well, we don't know, actually. It seems to be continental, at least. We're still testing that. Before you ask, yes, they're completely safe. You don't have any bread on you, do you?"

 **In Prologue Two: The Reporter gets to see something both astonishing and disgusting, and is given an offer she can't refuse...**


	2. Prologue: Meet The Administrator

_Author's Note: Thanks for the welcome, everyone! My inbox has flooded with favourites, follows and reviews. Thanks for all your comments, especially the 'Don't kill everyone this time' ones. I think it's not too much of a spoiler to say that this story isn't quite as death-ridden as the previous one, so you can relax. Slightly._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Prologue Two: Meet The Administrator**

One of the teleporter discs flashed and a man just appeared out of thin air. I'm sure I must have flinched or jumped back. It was the truck driver I had met earlier, and he nodded at me in greeting.

"Well, who do we have here? Is this our guest?"

"Yes, and you _already met her_. Remember? You gave her a lift in _your_ truck." The woman said pointedly. I kept my face carefully blank. It wasn't hard, since I was still staring at those teleporters.

"Sure did." The man paused and then gave a grin that had a hint of wickedness. "I just stopped off to shave off my beard in the meantime, right?"

Odd Thing Number... I had lost count by this point.

"Something like that." The woman replied with a defeated sigh. "This is Dr Conagher, Miss Aquilina. He designed the teleporters, plus a few other things we're still working on."

"But this is incredible!" I burst out. "I don't think even the Australians have technology like this!"

Conagher smiled disarmingly. "I just get these ideas and make 'em work. It's what I like to do. Want some company?"

"No, please continue with your work." The woman ordered. To my surprise, he nodded to us both and left. I felt just a tiny grain of suspicion beginning to form in my mind, not enough to be more than a tickle at the back of my head right now. "Step on the white teleporter, Miss Aquilina."

I tried not to hesitate, swallowed and stepped forward. To my surprise I felt... nothing. There was a flash of light and then I was simply somewhere else. There was the smell of bleach and metal, mixing and making my nose tickle, and I blinked a few times and took a wobbly step forward into what seemed to be some sort of cross between a lab and a hospital. There were beds, pretty uncomfortable looking ones, and all sorts of equipment beeping and buzzing.

The teleporter flashed behind me as the receptionist joined me, but my eyes were riveted on the truly enormous man lying on an examination table in the centre of the room. He was big- not fat, but built like a wrestler or a boxer. I did my best not to stare.

"Sergei, stop dripping on zhe floor! I just cleaned it." A strongly accented voice said, and I looked beyond the huge man to a doctor in a labcoat. He had very light blonde curly hair, almost white, and a long, chiselled face built to frown. Next to the giant in the bed, he looked tiny, but I suppose he was actually normal size.

"Cannot help it, doktor." My mouth dropped open again at the large man's accent. Russian. Had to be.

"Vell, try not to bleed so much."

"Will try."

The woman cleared her throat discretely and the two men startled and looked up. The doctor gave me a too-wide grin, showing off a row of perfect white teeth. I forced myself not to take a step back and instead do my charming journalist smile and nod in reply. I was suddenly glad that the receptionist and Russian were there- if they hadn't been, I had a feeling I'd have been strapped down and my organs removed.

"Ah, zhis must be our journalist!" He said enthusiastically, striding over and grabbing my hand, pumping it hard enough my shoulder hurt. "I am Gerhardt Weiss, and it so happens my friend here has cut himself. Zhis gives me a _great_ opportunity to show you zhe medigun."

"Yes, he just happened to get injured." The receptionist said with a soft snort.

"Is alright." The Russian said in a deep, rumbling voice. "Is for good cause and I do not feel pain much."

"Are you Russian, sir?" I asked.

"Nyet, am from Brazil." He replied in a bored-sounding voice.

"Ah," I replied, rummaging through some little odds and ends of knowledge. "Zdras'vortye tovarisch, as they say in...Brazil."

His small eyes narrowed and he glared at me for a moment, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, but he suddenly opened his mouth and gave a great booming laugh.

"Da! We do!" He said, giving a wide grin that seemed just as insane as Dr Weiss'. "You are thinking 'Is he spy?'. I am not spy for KGB. Too big and obvious to be spy, yes?"

"And you don't smoke enough." The receptionist added. They all laughed, and I assumed this was some sort of inside joke.

"So, zhe young lady is here to see zhe medigun?" Gerhardt asked.

"I am here to see everything, so I'd love to see it."

"Sehr gut! Let me explain vhat it does and how it vorks..."

"No." The receptionist said. I mentally nodded. Yes, she seemed to have a lot of power...

"I guess this is classified?" I asked, tapping my hand to the recorder in my pocket.

"Yes." She said firmly, but then, surprisingly, gave me a sideways wink. I blinked back in puzzlement. "If I let him, Gerhardt would explain everything in great detail and...at great length."

"She might be interested!" Weiss protested. He made a peevish _hmph_ noise. "I suppose I can at least demonstrate it?"

"Of course."

"Sergei here has, alas, been vounded, as you can see. He vas cleaning his...his..."

"Kitchen." The large Russian, Sergei, added. He held up a dripping hand with a deep slash across it. I don't normally mind the sight of blood- but this was _nasty_. I could see the sides of the slash wobble. It was a really deep cut. I could see stuff in it- little white bits. I'm no doctor, so I had no idea what I was looking at, but it made me feel a little light headed. "I put away knife and hand slipped. Do not go so pale, leetle woman, is not so bad."

"Vatch zhis." Weiss said, pulling a nozzle-shaped piece of equipment down from the ceiling. He pointed the nozzle at the large man's hand, and then flicked a switch.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but then I realised that there really was a line of glowing white mist reaching from the nozzle to Sergei's cut hand.

What happened next was amazing, but nearly made me throw up. Nowadays it wouldn't phase me, but then, well, I was pretty green, literally at that moment. I saw the white bits disappear as layers of dark red meat covered them up, and then the skin zipped up as neatly as a pair of trousers. You know, it doesn't sound too bad when I describe it like that, but you try watching it sometime. I almost lost my lunch. Deep, long breaths, I told myself. Deep, long breaths.

"Good as new." Sergei said in satisfaction, flexing his hand.

I swallowed, finally finding my voice. "But...that's impossible! It just...healed? In seconds?"

"Zhe medigun can heal any trauma and also help vizh symptomatic relief of many ailments." Weiss said proudly. "I can bring people back from zhe brink of death if I have to."

I admit I lost it at this point. I'm not proud of it, but forget professionalism- I just gaped like a fish.

"Now you can see why we have been so secretive." The receptionist said quietly. "We want to bring these things into the world, but we have to do it carefully. We're not in this for profit. I'm sure you see."

For a moment longer, my mind was blank, but I realised what she meant. What if one country got their hands on this thing, and nobody else did? Or it was available to some people and not others? This 'medigun' was an amazing thing, but it could be very, very badly abused. Surely you don't have to be a journalist to know that no government is nice behind doors, right?

"Yes." I said at last. "I see."

"Are you feeling faint, Miss Aquilina?" Weiss said in concern. His voice seemed miles away.

"Come on, let's grab a coffee. Thanks, Gerhardt." A couple of small but firm hands grabbed my shoulders and marched me away. I guess we must have gone through the teleporter again, because we were suddenly in a small lounge. There were more sickly pot plants, a coffee machine and some comfortable sofas and chairs. A large window looked out over the sea. I was steered to a chair and sat down. The buzz of the coffee machine was such a mundane sound I suddenly snapped back to every day.

The room seemed so normal. Too normal.

"Black or white?"

"Black. One sugar." I stated, running a hand through my hair.

"So, there you have it." The woman said, handing me a cup and saucer and sitting down opposite me, looking at me carefully.

The cup rattled in the saucer as I picked it up. The liquid was warm and soothing in my throat. It was very good coffee- rich and full of flavour.

"Well," I replied weakly, "I've certainly got a story."

She gave a half-smile. "You certainly have." She tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the table. "So, do you have any questions?"

"I...did have, but they seem to have all gone." I admitted. I swallowed and decided to go for broke. "I have one question though."

"Yes?" The woman's eyes narrowed and there was a look of amusement and hope in her tight smile.

"Why do you pretend to be the receptionist?" I looked at her tiny hands circling the teacup. "Miss...Pauling? Or is it Doctor?"

The Administrator threw back her head and laughed delightedly and then clapped her hands together in glee. "Oh, well done! Our sources said you were good. You're right, that is my name, and to answer your question: because receptionists get to see what people are _really_ like. When they're not pretending."

"Nice trick." I said with a nod, trying not to look as if I had cold sweat trickling down my back and soaking into my bra at the front. "You ought to be a reporter."

"Hmm. I think I'd get bored." She said, tapping her fingers against her cup for a moment. "I've been thinking, and I have an offer to make."

"Yes?" I asked, taking another sip of my coffee.

"I've been watching you."

"Of course." I replied with a shrug.

"Of course." She agreed. "This is off the record now, ok?"

"Ok." I said eagerly. I didn't know if I even had a story, since no one would believe what I had seen. The only people likely to buy this whole story were the sensationalist rags, so I didn't care much at this point. I just wanted to know more.

"You notice things. All the little things that don't add up here, don't you."

"Every place I visit is different." I stated calmly.

"Good answer." She said with an approving nod. "We need a public voice- to help us let people know what we want, when we want. None of us are...really that tactful, truth be told. So, my offer is this: You get to act as our PR officer, in return for which I'll pay you, and you get to know _everything_. You live here, and be a part of this. What do you say?"

I blinked for a moment, thinking of my New Jersey apartment, and my boyfriend. I couldn't leave that behind, could I? The...shabby, tiny flat, the admittedly sexy man who always came home with someone else's lipstick on his collar, smelling of drink...

I saw something tiny shoot past outside the window. It looked like a plane, but it was only the size of a man. It shot up into the air and sparkled in the sun for a moment. _Another invention?_ I wondered idly. Another thing I'd never know about if I left now...

"Yes." I heard my own voice say.

"Good." Miss Pauling replied, draining her cup. She held out her hand and I shook it. She stood up and I followed her into an amazing new life I could never have imagined.

So, will that do for your story?

...Oh.

Yeah, right, of course not. You want to hear about the robots. With the recent Grey Pride March and the Equal Rights for Metal Men movement, that's all that everyone wants to talk about. Not how the cure for the common cold was developed, the testing of the Teep network, or the dinosaur park. Just the robots.

Ok, ok. How about I tell you a story about the first robot ever made? I know a great one: the story of the best and worst mistake he ever made.

Now, where do I begin?

Oh yes: This story begins the same way it ends: with a life-or-death race against time.

 **In Chapter One: The Twin Scouts are running away- but from whom? And why?**


	3. Cold War

_Author's Note: I think it's time we started the proper story, don't you? Glad you agree. The relevance of the prologue will become clear eventually. I hope. So...who ordered some Scout Squared?_

 _I've done some artwork for this chapter, since it just had to happen for reasons. You can find it at the usual place: sanctuscecidit deviantart com . This website likes to remove urls for other sites because it's mean._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter One: Cold War**

 _"We're fascinated with robots because they are reflections of ourselves." – Ken Gold._

 ** _Location classified, Alaska, January 1973_**

Their breaths wheezed in their throats as they struggled through the silent snow, muttering and scolding each other to keep going, keep moving. One of them fell, and the other hauled him to his feet without wasting time on talking. Snow caked over their clothing and then melted , soaking through the layers and removing any thermal qualities their poorly-chosen winter wear had ever had.

It was so easy to forget how unpleasant cold really was. It was a beautiful, clear winter's day, and the light was scorchingly bright against the snow, making the two men's eyes water. Whenever the wind blew, the cold squeezed in a little harder, burying its bony fingers into their cheekbones and fingers. Their breath flew out in puffs and settled on their black hair, forming a halo of ice on their tangled locks. The cold wasn't just... _cold_ , not any more. It was pain.

They struggled on, moving surprisingly fast even with sodden clothes and the start of hypothermia. This had been a bad, bad place to make a stand. They were so vulnerable in this open ground- two tiny dark dots against the pure white. Easy to spot from the sky.

Like so many of the twin Scouts' ideas, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, Rick thought, panting for breath. He and Bobby, his identical clone, had been lucky enough to be able to pick the place for the final confrontation with their enemy. It was only now that he had realised that the open snow meant they left tracks everywhere they went.

"Fuck this shit." Bobby muttered as they staggered onwards.

Their clothes were now just bags of barely melted ice, wicking the heat away from their bodies, and Rick began to realise that he was starting to feel really, seriously cold. He had heard of people getting white or blue fingers in icy weather, but his were bright red and pulsed angrily with pain. That wasn't good. This whole situation wasn't good.

Their only possible salvation was a line of darkness a quarter of a mile off- a patch of scrubby trees. They would be difficult to follow or find there.

"We can hide in the trees." He panted. "Once we get there, we'll be ok."

"Yeah, you said that before, asshat." Bobby replied. They tried to force their aching legs into something like their normal speed. No good. Rick couldn't even feel his soaking feet.

"You think our toes'll drop off?" He murmured, pulling them both into a wobbly sprint.

"Hell no." Rick muttered, staring at the line of woodland. Closer now.

"I can hear somethin'." Bobby said, twisting nervously. Rick realised he was right- there was a distant roaring. "Damn. _Run!_ "

Somehow, from somewhere, they found a boost of energy. They _had_ to reach the trees. If they didn't- it was all over.

"He's gonna find us. Those tracks...he'll find us." Rick moaned. He could see the patterns of the bark on some of the white-stemmed trees of the woodland. So close.

"We can make a stand in there." Bobby said, pulling them along. "We can..."

"C'mon." Rick forced his body into one last, final effort. It was going to cost him, but he wrenched his complaining, aching legs into a sprint. The roaring sound was getting stronger, carrying far in the clear air. _Just a few more yards. A few more._ He glanced back and could see a sparkling star in the sky as a metal body caught the sunlight... _Fuck you, robot. You're not getting us. Not today. Not ever._

It was then that disaster struck.

The two men had always been happier in cities than countryside, and they had not realised that when you had trees, you had fallen branches and logs. If it had been snowing heavily, these would be hidden- and just perfect for breaking ankles.

Rick's feet were so numb he didn't even feel the branch as it snagged around his foot and made his ankle twist up and sideways. As he fell, something went _krrrsschhht_ inside his leg, and snow filled his mouth and caked against his face.

"Rick!" Bobby's hands grabbed at him to pull him upright, but as soon as he tried to stand again, his foot just collapsed under him and a sharp jab of something that wasn't quite pain jolted through his leg and into his spine as he fell into the snow again.

He pushed himself onto his back and looked up at Bobby's shocked face, but all he could do was gasp for breath as if all the oxygen was gone. He looked down and saw that his foot was twisted sideways unnaturally.

"That's gotta hurt." Rick said with a mutter of stupid laughter. Maybe it was the cold, but he truly could not feel it. He clung to that, knowing that when it started to hurt, it would not stop for a long time.

"We were so close." Bobby said, holding on protectively to his clone and looking up at the sparkling star that had turned into a winged humanoid figure as it got closer. It swung back and forth, obviously still searching for them, but then stopped, hovered for a moment, and dived down at the two men, a trail of smoke drifting lazily behind it. Frost glittered on its polished metal body as it shot towards them, arrow-straight, eyes glowing violet.

"You could always run." Rick suggested, looking up at Bobby with a smile. He smiled tremulously back.

"Screw you, Rick. Together, always, right?"

"Screw you too, bro." Rick said. Bobby put his hands on the fallen man's shoulders and squeezed.

The roar of the flying robot's jets filled the air as it put on a burst of speed and came in low, blasting snow away behind it, its wings narrowed down to tiny blades. The face was expressionless as always, implacable and unchanging. As it got close, it soared up and then floated gently down, landing on the snow with a crunch, metal feet sinking in deep. It paced slowly and cautiously towards the Scouts.

"Found ya! You lose, you...losers." Scoutbot said triumphantly, his weapons- two snowballs- ready to fly from his jointed fingers. He drew back his arms to let fly the precision-engineered icy weaponry, and then dropped it as he looked at Rick. "Fuck, what happened, bro?"

Rick suddenly hissed as a nasty stab of pain ran up his leg. Even with the cold, his leg was starting to feel burning hot and he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. The world was rapidly narrowing down to his burning leg and the cold. Black spots danced in front of his eyes. Vaguely, he thought that that was probably a bad thing.

"It's his ankle. Broken, I think." Bobby explained.

"No shit? I'd never have guessed." Scoutbot replied sarcastically. "I thought it was supposed to look like that. I'll go get help. One of the Medics can fix this. Problem is..."

"Katie's gonna find out." Bobby finished with a groan. "Bro, we're gonna be in the doghouse- and on the sofa-for a few days."

Rick managed a murmur in reply, and Scoutbot pushed Bobby out of the way and looked more closely at him, his glowing violet eyes swaying and making Rick feel dizzy and sick.

"He doesn't look good. You keep an eye on him, I'll get help." Scoutbot said. His wings flicked out, but he paused. "Is it cold?"

"What the fuck? Of _course_ it's cold, dumbass."

"How'm I supposed to know?" Scoutbot replied peevishly. He walked a short distance away and swept aside some of the snow with his arms before lifting off to hover in the air and blast the uncovered ground with the jets in his feet. "There, that'll be dry at least. Gotta be better, right?"

"C'mon, Rick." Bobby hauled the barely conscious man into the patch of scrubby ground.

"I'll be back." Scoutbot called, before shooting off into the sunlight once again. The robot turned into a dot, then a tiny sparkle, and then vanished.

"Bobby?" Rick murmured, his eyes opened again.

"Yeah?" Bobby sneezed and rubbed his nose.

"I think we lost the snowball fight."

* * *

Scoutbot soared off in the direction of the old TF Industries base, firing his jets as hot as he dared. It made his joints rattle and he wondered if he was going to fall apart, but he _had_ to get there fast. If he didn't... well, Rick had looked really bad. Fuck it, they had been having such fun as well! A rare day off and this happened. To hell with it all!

As he flew, Scoutbot planned his course of action. _Go to the old comms room in TF Industries HQ and signal the Institute. Get help._ Normally he loved flying, but right now, he didn't feel any kind of enjoyment at all. Two of his few friends were in trouble, bad trouble, and it was partly his fault. And...he had to tell everyone how it had happened. Crap. He was going to get chewed out again, wasn't he? And with so many clones, he'd get the same lecture over and over from people who thought they were being original. The thought of it made him want to puke. Not that he could. But he _would_ have done if he could.

 _Doesn't matter._ He thought determinedly as he got closer to the grey, blocky building, flying over the razor wire fence and the sign that read 'Timmy Fox's Happy Winter Funland. (Trespassers will be shot)'.

He flicked his wings out to create more drag, and shut off his jet engines. His feet made tiny _tink tink_ noises as the metal cooled down, and there was a hiss and a cloud of steam as he landed in the deep snow. He ran through the double doors and into the deserted building. His footsteps clanked on the cold tiles as he dashed down the dull, industrial corridors to the comms room. As he reached the radio panel, he thumped his jointed metal hand down on the controls to open up a channel to the Institute, far away in the Bahamas.

"Hey, anybody there? Help! We got bad shit happenin' here. Uhhh, what's that they say in films? Mayday!"

There was no reply except for a hiss of white noise.

"Hey, listen up! Whoever's there, stop fucking around and get over and answer the radio. Rick's injured. Mayday, we need help!"

A pop, and a whistle.

"Woah, slow down, pardner. I forgot this thing was even there. Made me jump outta my skin when your voice came outta the speaker. What're y'all doin' way over there?"

"Uh...training exercises." Scoubot replied. "Bobby, Rick and I were, uh, testing our ability to move quickly in snowy conditions."

"You were, huh? Well, ain't that a thing."

"Whatever, hardhat." Scoutbot replied in irritation. "Look, Rick's hurt- broke his leg, and they're out there in the snow. They look dead cold. Dude, they're gonna _die_ out there!"

"Ok, ok, keep your bolts on. I'll grab a rescue team and come out there. I think Medic Albrecht and Tiny Vlad are free."

"Uh..ok." Scoutbot groaned inwardly. "Tiny Vlad is gonna be _so_ useful."

"You know those two don't go anywhere without each other. We'll be there quick as we can. Engineer Jed out."

* * *

...Sound event recorded...

...Leaving Hibernation Mode...

...WARNING: Power Low...

...Sound event recorded...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...ERROR: Connection failed after four retries...

...Sound event recorded...

...Session Timed out after 15 minutes idle...

...Entering Hibernation Mode...

* * *

Bobby couldn't think about anything other than how cold he was. He'd _kill_ to get warm. Every single fibre of his being was telling him to find somewhere warm. He wanted to walk off across the snow and...and...do what? He didn't know. The wind had dropped, but it didn't seem to make any difference. He and Rick huddled together, trying to share some heat.

The air temperature seemed to be falling as the shadows got longer and the light changed into that strange leached-out grey of fading sunlight over snow. A black and white bird flew over head, its call echoing in the still air of dusk.

The cold pressed in like a physical force, crushing and stabbing the two Scouts. Their wet clothing creaked as it froze and shattered.

"Should've lit a fire." Bobby muttered.

"Mm." Rick murmured, his eyes closed. Bobby looked at his face in concern. He was sickly pale, and his eyes seemed sunk in deep shadow.

"Hey, bro! Bro! Don't fall asleep. Stay awake." He shook Rick slightly, and then batted his face. His double screwed up his face in annoyance and opened his eyes.

"M'tired." Rick muttered.

"No!" Bobby said, jolting the injured man a little. He saw Rick's twisted ankle jiggle with the rough movement, but Rick did not react. He sighed and hugged him closer.

"We'll get outta this, bro." He felt his eyes go unfocused and he blinked. He realised he could no longer feel his legs or arms. He could feel the same aching tiredness Rick had felt creeping over him. He remembered, long before becoming a merc, getting a bat to the side of his head. It felt very like this- everything was slipping into a dream, as if he was drunk. All he wanted to do was _sleep_.

At least it was getting warmer now. He wasn't shivering as much. That was good.

 _Sleep._

"Hey." A mechanical voice called.

"Yo, asshat."

Smell of kerosene and hot metal.

"Ah, damn it."

Pressure on his shoulder. Shaken.

A metal hand slapped his face and he blinked and looked up dully into two purple stars. There was a golden light. _Fire? Burning!_ He struggled to remove his gloves, but found his hands held tightly. Something painfully hot was forced to his lips and he tried to turn away. Just like his hands, his head was held in a strong grip. His neck was so stiff he couldn't even try to move away.

"Drink it, jerk."

"Ssss." His tongue was lazy in his mouth and refused to work, but he pried his eyes open to see Scoutbot leaning over him. The liquid spiked and ached in his throat and he spluttered.

"Help's coming. You're gonna be ok." Scoutbot said. He looked down and shook his head. "Fuck me, we're in trouble though. They're gonna rake us over the coals. Like, we are in deep shit. Damn, I hope they fuckin' hurry."

There was a distant explosion and Scoutbot's head snapped round.

"You hear that? That's help comin'."

"Rr...rrr'k?"

"Rick's...he's ok. Yeah, he'll be ok."

"B'llshhh..." Bobby muttered. Scoutbot tipped the mug and made him drink more of the burning liquid.

There was another explosion and a spark of white and gold soared over the treetops accompanied by a distant scream that tried to sound more angry than afraid, but didn't quite succeed. Bobby stared, trying to make his eyesight work properly, but he was pretty certain it was two figures, jointed by a glowing string of white light. As it got closer, he realised he was right, and Soldier landed neatly besides the two Scouts and put his rocket launcher down just as Medic Albrecht shot past and landed face first in a snow drift.

"Verdammt Schnee...dumm Quickfix...Scheisse!" He said in an angry voice muffled by a mouthful of snow. A gloved hand waved about and he pried himself upright and shook the snow off himself. "Vhat have I told you about _careful trajectories_ vhen I am using zhe Quickfix, Soldier?"

 **In Chapter Two: Help has arrived, but there is a bigger problem looming than mere threat of death: Miss Pauling is not pleased.**


	4. An Icy Reception

_Author's note: Lots of replies as always! You guys are so diligent in following this story. Now let us introduce a few more of the characters involved...  
_

 _Oopsy, quick edit: Good news, everyone! I'm going on holiday for two weeks. I'm afraid this story won't update again until July22nd. Please don't screech too much at me._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Two: An Icy Reception**

Medic Albrecht ran a gloved hand through his curly black hair, shaking the remaining snow from his locks before glaring at Soldier. Scoutbot looked at the man curiously. He was the usual Medic type, but he'd let his hair grow longer so it was a wild and crazy mess. Scoutbot thought it made him look nuts- which, admittedly, was a suitable look for a Medic. In the confused months after the death of Gray Mann, the various clones had found ways to make themselves feel at least a little unique. Most of them had different names and had changed their hairstyles or clothing. Of course, at first they had all come up with exactly the same ideas. There had been a lot of arguments. Scoutbot remembered the Institute echoing with gunfire. Scoutbot didn't really care either way- it was up to them what they did. In the end, it had all worked out with only a minimal number of flesh wounds.

The only exception were the Soldiers. They were, every one of them, simply called Soldier. Equal, identical, and, Scoutbot felt, kinda creepy.

"You said to be fast, so don't complain about my landings." Soldier stated, glaring at Medic. "Is he dead yet? I have a blanket to wrap his body in." He turned away from the annoyed German and fired a flare into the sky. It shot up and hung in the sky like a red star for a few moments.

"Zhe blanket is to keep him _varm_ , dummkopf." Albrecht brushed some snow off his shoulder in annoyance. "Vhere is Vlad? Vlad! Wo bist du?" He glanced around himself anxiously

"You don't keep corpses warm, private. It makes them stink. And then they go slimy and wriggly. Being stinking, slimy and wriggly is insubordination of the highest level!"

"They're not dead, asshat." Scoutbot replied in annoyance, snatching a blanket from the man and wrapping it carefully around Rick, looking worriedly at the pale man. His metal hands were so cold they burned when they touched his hands, and he hissed in pain. "Sorry dude."

"Tiny Scouts are hurt!" A mound of snow shook, and a figure burst out in a scatter of whiteness.

" _You're_ callin' _them_ tiny?" Scoutbot asked in astonishment.

"Zhere you are, Vlad!" Albrecht ignored his patients and picked up the six-inch tall Heavy Weapons Expert carefully and lifted him onto his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Am fine, Doktor. Cold does not bother me. Am made for it." Vlad replied calmly, grabbing hold of Albrecht's long hair for stability. Scoutbot noticed that the Medic also had tiny loops sewn into his labcoat for the minature Russian to hold on to.

"Zhat was vhen you vere full sized!" Albrecht scolded. "Since zhe accident, your increased surface area to mass ratio means zhat..."

"Yo, doc. Patients. Help them." Scoutbot said firmly. "And, uh, hi Vlad." Scoutbot gave the diminutive man a nod. Like Scoutbot, he was one of the oddballs of the Institute, along with Jacques, who was the weirdest of all of them. _We three freaks, where everyone else is the same._ Albrecht's voice interrupted Scoutbot's thoughts and he looked up.

"Hrm, hypothermia, as expected, and zhat is a nasty break. Look at the angle of zhat foot!" With a pleased grin, Albrecht pointed his medigun at Rick and flipped the bulky handle. The white beam of the Quickfix hit Rick and he moaned as his foot twisted and creaked back into place, straightening with an audible crunching noise. His eyes flickered and he murmured something that sounded vaguely obscene.

"S'he ok?" Bobby asked muzzily, trying to struggle out of the blanket he had been tightly wrapped in. He gave a small, weak cough.

"Don't even zhink about taking zhat blanket off." Albrecht admonished. "He's in shock and hypothermic, as expected. Bozh of you need to be taken inside as soon as possible."

"So what happened here?" Soldier demanded, looking at Scoutbot suspiciously. The robot looked away guiltily and then cursed himself for not using his best poker face.

"Uh, training exercises. Yeah."

"Leetle machine is lying." Vlad stated.

"Hey, why would I lie? And I'm not some dumb machine. I'm a robot." Scoutbot objected.

"Everyone knows robots are no good." Soldier said, eyeing Scoutbot suspiciously. "They always turn on their masters eventually. I have watched many documentaries about it."

"Those are TV shows, Soldier." Scoutbot said tiredly. "It's _not real_."

"My eyes don't lie, son."

"Fuck. Off. Sol." Scoutbot replied levelly.

"Zhis is a conversation for anozher time, ja?" Albrecht said irritably. "Engineer Jed and Pyro Tianlong are on zheir vay vizh transport for zhe patients. Zhe medigun cannot heal non-traumatic conditions, but it can keep zhem stable and not-dead. I can begin real treatment once ve get inside. In zhe meantime, anybody vant some coffee?" He unscrewed the lid of a thermos.

"Me." Rick said quietly, blinking bloodshot eyes.

"Alright, but take it slowly." Albrecht replied, filling a cup carefully. There was a distant sound of a motor roaring and he looked up hopefully. "Ah, I zhink zhat is zhem."

Scoutbot looked up towards the noise, and sure enough, two skidoos towing trailers roared over the snow towards them, spraying snow like a white mist behind them. The robot's shoulder joints relaxed with relief: they were safe now, and everything would be fine.

 _Until Miss Pauling finds out, anyway..._

* * *

"So," Miss Pauling said in that level voice she tended to use before someone got shot, "Now you're mostly better, perhaps you can all tell me what happened. No rush. It's not like I have a multi-million dollar industry to run, or anything."

The two Scouts looked at each other hopelessly. They had spent a few hours warming up in the infirmary and were now sat up in bed, still shivering occasionally. Medic had given them something hot and sickly-sweet to drink, and they took the occasional gulp with a grimace. The other people involved in the rescue mission wandered into the room behind her and found various assorted chairs to sit on. Scoutbot sat on a table opposite the two beds, swinging his legs nervously.

"Uh, well, babe..." Bobby began.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" Miss Pauling asked, tapping her nails on the desk.

"Katie..."

"Right now you call me Miss Pauling." She said icily. "Well?"

"It was..."

"...his idea..."

"...his idea..."

"Hey! It was not!"

"You liar!"

"Ah, fuck it. We were having a snowball fight." Scoutbot said in defeat. "We had nothin' to do, and it would've been fun, so why not?"

"It was Scoutbot's idea." Bobby blurted out.

"Yeah, his idea." Rick agreed with a fervent nod.

"What the hell dude! That's not cool and you know it." Scoutbot said, getting to his feet angrily.

"It don't matter whose idea it was," Engineer Jed pointed out, waving at Scoutbot to calm down. "An' I don't like all this finger pointin' anyway. The point is that it was a real bad idea."

"You went without telling anyone where you go." Tiny Vlad said from the bedside table. "Dangerous place, outside of respawn, no backup. That is bad, very bad."

"Vhen I went valking in Bavaria, it vas essential to give a friend a plan of your route and an idea of your timing, so help could be sent if anyzhing went wrong." Albrecht said, distractedly giving Vlad a miniature sandwich, which the small man accepted happily.

"It is standard practice in any manoeuvre to have a plan of action and reinforcements ready." Soldier stated sternly. "You could have been taken by enemy forces."

"There weren't any enemy forces, numbnuts." Scoutbot pointed out. "Just me."

"My God, it's just as I said!" Soldier declared, rising from his seat and cracking his knuckles. "Never trust a robot. Engie, do robots have asses for me to kick?"

"Well, son, it depends what you mean by 'ass'..."

"Not this shit again." Scoutbot replied with an electronic sigh.

"Uhhh hrrsssht srrrrrrrrh. Hrrrrrssh uhhh rrrrhhh." Pyro Tianlong said, coming over and giving the robot a tight hug.

"Thanks dude." Scoutbot said softly to the masked man, patting him awkwardly. "Uh, let go now?"

"Uhh hrrr."

"The point is that you could have been lost for good," Miss Pauling interrupted. She flicked a wisp of hair out of her face, "And we would never have known...you could have died out there." She adjusted her glasses and looked down hurriedly at her clipboard.

There was a moment of embarrassed, busy silence.

"They wouldn't have died." Scoutbot pointed out, bringing a hand to his chest with a clang. "'Cos I was there. Cold don't get to me, and I could get back to base, no problem."

"No offense, Scoutbot, but while you were built to the highest spec, every machine breaks down sometimes. Dell told me about that time you crashed, remember that?"

"Dude, seriously, it was _one_ jet fighter. The guy had an ejector seat, so it was all ok. Anyway, he shouldn't have got in my way. It was totally his fault."

"You were scattered right across two islands and a section of seabed! Dell had to send Jacques to find all your parts. Thank _God_ your processor case is waterproof or you'd have had serious problems."

"I knew you guys'd come and get me. Robots can never die, right? They can always be repaired. Thank fuck."

"'I knew you guys would come and get me', you say." Vlad repeated. "That is point. In Alaska, we could not have come."

"All zhree of you don't have zhe sense you were born vith!" Albrecht said in exasperation.

"Cloned with." Rick pointed out.

"Manufactured with." Scoutbot added.

"Face it guys, you acted irresponsibly." Miss Pauling said firmly. "You should have known better than this. Well, Bobby and Rick should have done anyway..." She suddenly stopped and cleared her throat.

"Wait, what?" Scoutbot asked, hopping off the table and standing up. "And not me?"

"Nobody trusts robots." Soldier muttered, tugging his helmet farther down over his eyes and crossing his arms.

"I saved your lives, remember?" Scoutbot said, waving his arms at all of them. "I killed Gray and stopped him turning you all into mince! And you _still_ don't trust me?"

"Come on, Soldier, you know that's just plain unfair. Scoutbot has shown his..."

"Shut up, both of you!" Miss Pauling snapped. She sighed and pushed her glasses up with a small hand. "I trust you, Scoutbot, and I consider you a friend, I do. What I meant was...well, you'd not feel the cold..."

"Matter o' fact, Scoutbot runs more efficiently in cold weather." Jed added helpfully.

"So, you'd not realise it was dangerous for Bobby or Rick. I, um, don't think you'd notice the signs that they were getting too cold." She explained. "It's not your fault, not at all- they should have known better- but...even though Violet Engineer gave you human memories, just remembering cold and feeling it are two different things..." She trailed off awkwardly.

Scoutbot's shoulders slumped. "But...if I had felt the cold, I couldn't have come and gotten help...I'm not their keeper...I mean I...oh screw you guys! Fucking humans." The robot stomped out of the room, feet clattering on the tiles and slammed the door behind him. Miss Pauling winced guiltily.

"Wow, Katie." Rick said.

"Way to hurt his feelings." Bobby added.

"That was a dick move, y'know?"

"Damn." She said, letting out her breath in a sigh. "I didn't mean it like that."

"You were right though." Soldier said with a firm nod.

"Like hell she was." Jed said, pausing briefly for thought. "I don't think you're bein' exactly polite to our mechanical friend out there."

"Nrr hrr." Pyro shaking his head disapprovingly at Soldier and then Miss Pauling, who blinked and looked away briefly.

"She _does_ have a point." Albrecht said. "Vizhout human senses, Scoutbot cannot be expected to act humanly. I do not mean he vill go on a rampage, but vhat if he tries to shake somevone's hand and crushes a little too hard? Damage due to simple ignorance, not malice."

"Ain't gonna happen." Jed said. "His actuators and pneumatics are calibrated to give him the same strength as our two Scouts here."

"I think you are unfair to our leetle metal man." Vlad said, looking at Miss Pauling disapprovingly.

"I'll go talk to him later." Miss Pauling said with a sigh. "Right now, everybody out. I have to decide what to do with these two."

"I vant to keep zhem under observation for 24 hours..."

"I said out." She ordered.

"Rrrgh. Zhis is not good medicine." Medic Albrecht grumbled. He picked up Vlad and placed him carefully on his shoulder, and the group left. Engineer Jed gave Bobby a quick pat on the shoulder and a wink before he left.

Miss Pauling waited for a moment until it had gone quiet. She cocked her head, listening for voices, and once convinced it was completely silent, grabbed Rick's shoulders and pulled him into a long possessive kiss, before turning around and planting the same kiss on Bobby's lips, holding the side of his head in a tight grip, her hands curling into his black hair.

"Never, _ever_ scare me like that again." She said breathlessly. "I thought I'd lost you both."

"Yeah well, it wasn't much fun for us either." Rick replied.

"Hypothermia sucks donkey balls." Bobby agreed, coughing slightly. "Don't think I'll ever be warm again."

"Breaking an ankle isn't cool either." Rick added, as the woman ducked under his bed. There were four clicks. "Hon, what are you doin' down there?"

"Releasing the breaks on this bed." A muffled voice said. The bed lurched.

"Woah, are you gonna push me out the window or somethin'?"

"Don't be stupid." She popped up on the other side of Rick's bed and then determinedly pushed the two beds together. Once they met with a shudder, she nimbly clambered over Rick and lay down in-between the two men, putting an arm around each of them and dragging them both closer to her.

"You are an amazing woman..."

"...you know that, right?"

"Yes." She replied smugly as their arms folded around her. Bobby nuzzled into her neck with a murmur of pleasure. "If you give me a hickey, I'm leaving."

"Ok, ok." Bobby replied disappointedly, his voice muffled while Rick chuckled and stroked her hair.

"Now, both of you get some rest. I'll be right here."

"Katie..."

"We..."

"Mmm?"

"Uh, nothing."

"Don't matter."

"Oh, by the way." Miss Pauling said, closing her eyes contentedly. "You're both confined to the Institute for two weeks as punishment."

"...crap."

 **In Chapter Three: Scoutbot is fed up and annoyed, so he goes to find someone he can talk to: Jacques.**


	5. Above and Below

_Author's Note: Well, I'm back from my holidays! Tanned relaxed and with an inbox full of reviews! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I think I sort of lost count of who I replied to and who I didn't, so if I missed you out, my apologies. A special thank you to all the guest people who posted reviews- I can't reply to you individually, but I really appreciate all your interest. I see a number of people noticed my habit of creating lots and lots of characters. What can I say? I simply enjoy doing it. I'm not entirely sure where Tiny Vlad came from, but...he's there now.  
_

 _And now, let's find out about Jacques..._

 _So, has anyone guessed why he's called Jacques? No, it's not french for James Bond...this time.  
_

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Three: Above and Below**

 _Stupid humans._

Stomp. Stomp. Clang.

 _Fuck them all._

Stomp stomp.

 _Think they're so important, strutting about with their soft skin and insides full of squishy bits._

Scoutbot knew he was being unfair, but right now, he didn't care. He stopped briefly by a vending machine before continuing on his morose way outside the Institute. As always, there was building work going on out there. The Institute had claimed some of the nearby islands and more buildings were shooting up, connected by a network of bridges that looked like a spider's web. The sound of bad Russian singing drifted over the water to him from one of the construction sites. Scoutbot helped with the building sometimes, since he could lift ropes and fix things into position and doing the more dangerous jobs since he was easy to fix.

 _Hell, with respawn and the medigun,_ they _are easy to fix too. But no, they feel pain so they can't do it. Total wimps, all of them._

Scoutbot knew what pain felt like, from the Violet Scout's memories, but those memories were four years distant now, interleaved with a lot more memories of his real life as a robot. He liked being a robot, loved it, but...

Gulls wheeled overhead as he made his way to a little area of pebbly beach surrounded by palms where the sea dipped away quickly, forming a deep hollow. It had been getting dark in Alaska when the rescue party had left, but here on the other side of the continent twilight was just starting, several hours later.

"Jacques!" He held up the small cardboard box and rattled it. Jacques always came when he did this, sooner or later. "Yo, dude. You there?"

There was no reply, and Scoutbot sat silently and waited. The sky darkened and the air went still until there was no noise other than the clattering of waves on the pebbles. Darkness wasn't a problem for the robot, since he had good night-vision, and so did Jacques. Jacques preferred the night.

Finally, the water stirred and a single fat bubble plopped on the surface. Scoutbot stood up and rattled the box again as Jacques surfaced, smiling and showing off his pointed, translucent teeth.

"You don't need to rattle that packet as if I am an aquarium fissh, mon ami." Jacques said in a breathy, hissing voice. He moved smoothly to the beach with a gentle ripple of water, reaching for the cigarettes hungrily with long, clawed fingers. "Ssso kind of you, Sscoutbot."

"Good to see you, dude." Scoutbot said to the man, producing sparks from his finger to light the man's cigarette.

Jacques took a deep breath, savouring the taste and smell of the tobacco and then exhaled with a contented sigh. "I miss thiss ssso much."

As Scoutbot understood it, Jacques was an experiment that had gone completely right. Medic Erwin had somehow convinced one of the Spies to undergo a procedure designed to give him the ability to change his colour and even the texture of his skin at will- the perfect camouflage. Presumably, Spy Jacques had leapt at the chance to have such a versatile tool at his disposal. Erwin had explained it would involve changing his genetic makeup and making some surgical alterations- nothing major or life-threatening.

He had not mentioned that the best colour-changers in the world were the cephalopods- the cuttlefish and octopi.

It had worked, but the poor Spy had gained a little more than he bargained for. The man could indeed change colour at will and change his skin from smooth to spiky and back with a thought- but he now had eight tentacles instead of legs and had to live underwater. Medic Erwin had reacted in typical fashion by saying 'Oooh, zhat was fun! Let me see if I can fix it...', but Jacques had slithered away before the man could try any more experiments on him.

The half-octopus-mutant-human-thing rested his arms casually on the pebbles, as if enjoying an idle afternoon at a European café, taking another puff on his cigarette. Like Scoutbot, Jacques did not wear any clothes, but he usually altered his skin so it looked as if his upper body had the standard Spy outfit of suit and balaclava in a stormy blue-grey colour. He stayed at the Institute, but tended to avoid most of the staff, living his own solitary underwater life. There had been rumours of sirens and mermaids on nearby islands, so Scoutbot suspected he amused himself by going off and pranking the locals sometimes. He just hoped the octopus man never ate people, or anything like that.

"One of these days, I sshall ask Engineer to design an underwater cigarette." Jacques said, blowing smoke out of the gills on his chest with relish. "Ssso, why the long face, my metal friend?"

"Don't bullshit me, Jacques. My face never changes." Scoutbot replied, flicking a pebble into the sea idly.

"It is merely a figure of ssspeech. Your shoulders are sslumped and you don't have your usual air of boundlesss, annoying energy. What is wrong?"

Scoutbot sighed in resignation and explained the events of the long day to the man, who patiently listened, occasionally ducking under the water to keep his gills wet. As the light dimmed into true night, Jacques' eyes glowed a dull yellow, and lines of iridescent dots showed up on his skin.

"It sseems to me," Jacques commented, stubbing out his cigarette and taking another one, "That they are not blaming you. You got off lightly- Bobby and Rick are getting mosst of the blame, sssince they placed themselvess in harm'ss way, while you did not. As for Sssoldier, well, expecting ssanity and tolerance from _him_ is an exercise in futility. He and Demo have tried to blow me up before now! However, Engineer and Pyro admire and trusst you. Bobby and Rick obvioussly do as well."

"Nah, I know that, but you know, that's not the point." Scoutbot paused, clenching his fists with a creaking noise and trying to organise his thoughts. "See, she was right. I _didn't_ think about the cold. Didn't notice it, didn't think of it as dangerous. Snow is just...white stuff. Kinda pretty, can be fun, but not dangerous."

Jacques held out his cigarette hopefully, and Scoutbot lit it with another spark. He took a thoughtful drag on it before answering.

"It iss not your responsibility to keep them sssafe. They are full adultss, able to make their own decisionss."

"But I...forgot, dude. I forgot what cold was, and how it felt." Scoutbot confessed, his voice getting lower as he looked down at his metal feet. "I didn't remember it. I mean, it's not my fault the guys got hurt, I know that, but..."

Jacques sighed. "It iss a hard thing, to remember being sssomeone, _ssomething_ you no longer are. We remember our humanity and it tauntss uss." Jacques suddenly winced and rubbed his stomach.

"You ok?"

"Oh, just a touch of sstomach ache. I think I must have eaten sssomething that disagreed with me."

"Maybe you should go see the doc."

"It will be a cold day in hell before I give mysself up to the administrationss of the gentle docteur again. I would end up with ever _more_ extra appendagess. Anyway, you were sssaying?"

"Being a robot is fuckin' awesome, it really is." Scoutbot said. "I don't need to bother with sleeping, or eating, or any of that human shit. I can fly and I have this neat shiny metal body...seems it's not enough though."

"If they exsspect you to be ssomething you are not, they are in the wrong, not you." Jacques hissed thoughtfully. He gestured around himself. "To me, the land is too dry and too hot. Far better to be in the quiet depthss, sssurrounded by cool, ssoothing water. I remember that it was not always thusss, but it iss anathema to me now."

"It's who?" Scoutbot asked suspiciously.

"Never mind." Jacques waved a clawed hand in dismissal. "Humanss have such a narrow perception and they exsspect us to fit. We don't- but thiss is what I _am_ , now. They need to accept that of me, and of you as well."

"I guess."

"Perhaps this is _esspecially_ a problem with thiss particular group of humanss." Jacques continued. "After all, they are ussed to knowing many people _exactly_ like themsselvess. Not much variation here, oui?"

"Nah." Scoutbot agreed. He fidgeted for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into words. "And I...I...I feel left out, man! It's like I live in a different world, sometimes, and nobody, _nobody_ , knows what it's like, not really. I guess...I've felt it more an' more recently, that I don't fit in. I don't belong here, I don't fucking belong _anywhere_! Today just kinda brought that home to me, more'n ever before."

Jacques ducked under the water for a moment, carefully keeping his cigarette above the waves before surfacing again.

"What you are sssaying is that you are lonely." His glowing eyes fixed on the robot sympathetically, beads of water running off his head.

"You make me sound like a total pussy." Scoutbot objected. "All that emotional shit."

"Yet true, I think."

"Do you...ever get lonely?" He asked hesitantly.

"I am not as ssocial in nature as you but..." He paused. "Frequently. Or rather, not lonely. Issolated."

"That sucks."

"Perhapss one day another Sspy will agree to become an horrific sssquid monsster, hmm?" Jacques gave a sudden mirthful snort.

"Huh, anythin' is possible." Scoutbot replied with a slight chuckle.

"For now, though, I have the freedom of the sssea. You have the sskies. It is ssome consolation." Jacques made an odd clicking noise and changed colour to mottled grey and brown. "Oh! Why did I not think of that earlier? Yess, of course!" The man started to laugh, stirring the water with his tentacles as he swirled them about in amusement.

"What?"

"I am not ssuggesting thiss, and we did not have this converssation, undersstand?"

"Huh? I'm right here, dude."

"Ah, mon dieu I forgot how usseless you are at ssubterfuge...I mean that you are not to discuss thiss with anyone, undersstand? Not even Bobby or Rick. No one."

"You've...not been eating people have you?"

"What?! No! What would I do that for?!"

"Joking! Joking, honest."

"They are far too difficult to catch and give me indigesstion. Too fatty." Jacques continued.

"Dude..."

"Joking! Joking, honesst." Jacques replied, imitating Scoutbot's voice with a grin. He blew smoke into the clear air. "You know, it iss a minor thing, but I miss blowing sssmoke rings. It took me a while to learn to do that, as a human. Gillss do not allow for it."

"Back on track dude."

"You promise to keep this sssecret?" Jacques insisted.

"Yeah, sure. Cross my heart. Not that I have a heart, but ya know."

"Let me make a sssuggestion to you, my young robot: go back to Alasska and find the Violet Engineer's old workshop. There is sssomething there that...may interesst you."

"I...don't like goin' there. Makes me think of Violet Engie, and how he died." Scoutbot gave a sad sigh. "Poor guy. He made me there, and suffered for it."

"Much has changed ssince then." Jacques gave a wicked grin, showing his pointed teeth. His yellow eyes looked up at the robot. "Trusst me: there is ssomething waiting for you there. It hass been waiting a long time."

"What? What is this thing?" Scoutbot asked.

"Oh...it is besst you go and ssee for yourself."

"You could just tell me, dude."

"I am a Ssspy. I don't jusst give out information. It iss more interessting thiss way."

"Ok, ok, I'll do it." Scoutbot said, standing up and idly brushing off his knees. His arm squeaked. "Ah, fuck, I got grit in my joints again. I tell ya, beaches are _not_ good for robots."

"Life is a beach, Sscoutbot." Jacques said with a chuckle. "Every one is different, but they're all damp and ssometimes a little sssmelly. I'm not sure how sseaweed fits into this metaphor though."

"You're weird, you know that?"

"Oh yess." Jacques agreed. He suddenly hauled himself awkwardly out of the water, slithering across the pebbles with a grunt of effort until he reached a small barnacle-encrusted locker. He put the packet of cigarettes away neatly, and the retreated back to the water with a sigh. "Tell me how you get on, won't you? In confidence, of course."

"Promise." Scoutbot said with a nod. "Thanks, Jacques. You know, for listening."

"Any time." Jacques said. "I enjoy your visitss. If you ssee Sssniper Lawrence, tell him he sstill owes me after the lasst game of cardss. Goodbye and good luck, my friend." The man waved his clawed hand and then dived under the water with a gentle splash.

The altered Spy swam through the dark water, admiring the way shafts of moonlight struck the surface waves, lighting up the edges of rocks and floating motes of matter and filling the sea with silver glitter. Jacques moved easily and swiftly through the water, enjoying the soothing currents of water on his skin. It was silent down here except for the occasional clicking of excited fish defending territory or finding food. The seas had a harsh beauty that now belonged to him, in a way it had never belonged to a human before.

 _If I still count as human. Maybe not._

His stomach twinged in pain, and he rubbed it with a frown, realising that although he felt a little nauseous from whatever it was he had eaten that had disagreed with him, he was also very hungry. He let himself sink down to the bottom of the sea and changed his skin to rough and mottled brown, curling his tentacles over himself to blend in with his surroundings. All he had to do was wait until a shoal came close and snatch. As luck would have it, ambush was the best way to catch fish, and as a Spy, he was good at waiting and watching.

Yes. He was definitely good at waiting. No doubt about that. He was capable of glacial patience.

 _Merde, I wish I had a book. Or a cigarette, or both._

Cigarettes didn't work underwater of course, and books just got soggy. Jacques sighed, water fluttering out of his gills and turned his thoughts to the robot, watching the sea for the silver flashes of fish. Jacques could cope with being alone, he really could- but Scoutbot was naturally a far more social creature than he was. He needed like-minded company, but there was none to be had. At least he had helped there, a little- they were both so far outside the norm that it gave them something in common.

Jacques' clawed hand darted out and grabbed at a passing fish, catching it neatly before transferring it into a mass of squeezing tentacles and constricting it to death. The fish wriggled desperately for a few moments before its movements were reduced down to the occasional twitch, and the man daintily transferred it back to his hand before swallowing it whole, feeling the dying animal wriggle down his oesophagus. He remembered vaguely that this would once have disgusted him, but this was how he ate now. He felt a moment of nausea before the food filled his oddly achy stomach and soothed it.

He wondered if Scoutbot would actually go and visit Conagher's old workshop. He hoped he had convinced him. He grinned for a moment in the cold water. Alone in his watery home, Jacques was often bored, and it was certainly going to be interesting to find out what happened next.

After all, wasn't causing trouble what a Spy was best at?

 **In Chapter Six: Scoutbot has to decide whether to go and see this mystery thing Jacques mentioned...**


	6. Hidden

_Author's Note: Well, ladies and gentlemen, I'm a frickin' idiot. Did I just hear someone say 'Yes we know'? Shame on you! Anyway, this time I'm an idiot because I made the dumbest mistake ever: I got the title of my own story wrong. I've corrected it now: the title should be 'Saving Private Soldierbot'. I get confused by those long complicated words, it seems. Sigh._

 _Nobody figured out why Jacques is called Jacques. He's named after Jacques Cousteau, the famous French underwater explorer. It had to be done._

 _Lots of responses to this story and it's now got over 1000 reads! Thanks everyone for reading, and a special thanks to my guest readers, whom I can't reply to directly. I do read and love all your reviews._

 _Now let's have some Scoutbot angst, yes?_

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Four: Hidden**

 _Do I go? Don't I?_

Scoutbot pulled a curled cable out of a drawer and plugged one end into the wall socket and the other into his neck, and then sat down for a quiet recharge in his room. He lay down on his bed, crossed his legs and picked up a random sports magazine, flicking through it. _Hale's Ten Bodybuilding Tips. Fan-fucking-tastic. If I wanted six-pack abs I'd need a panel beater._ He put it down and stared at the ceiling.

After the defeat of the robot army, Scoutbot had surprised the mercenaries by badgering Miss Pauling into giving him his own bedroom. The only one not surprised had been Engineer Dell, who had given an eager grin and set about designing the perfect stylish home for a robot, situated next to his own workshop for easy maintenance.

The room had a sheet-less bed coated with tough-wearing PVC. No wardrobe, of course; but there were plenty of cupboards and a few shelves for Scoutbot's possessions- not that he had had many at that time. The wall by the bed had a modified high-power socket for Scoutbot to recharge, but even though Scoutbot had begged Dell numerous times, there was no kerosene tank to refuel his jet engines. The Engineer had insisted that Scoutbot got that from his workshop only. With a gentle smile, he had pointed out that it meant he'd get to see Scoutbot for a chat now and again.

Now Scoutbot was wondering if it wasn't to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't murder everyone. He was fairly sure it wasn't. Fairly sure. He gave an electronic sigh.

 _There is something waiting for you there. It has been waiting a long time._

What the hell did Jacques even mean? He'd been to TF Industries often- there was nothing there. It was boring. And going back to Violet Engie's workshop...

They said robots couldn't feel pain. They were wrong.

The Violet Engineer, the one all these other guys were the clones of, had been shot because of him. Hell, it hadn't been his fault, of course not, but... his creation had caused this whole mess. He sure as fuck didn't want to go back to Hardhat's old place. Damn it. Jacques knew him too well. He knew Scoutbot was too curious for his own good. The robot found himself looking up at the colourful conch shell perched on a shelf on the other side of the room. Jacques had given it to him a while back, and he knew that, scratched inside, was one word: 'Merci'. The octopus-man had never told him what he was saying thank you for, and refused to discuss it any further.

He was going to look, wasn't he? Scoutbot already knew he would end up going back to Violet Engineer's workshop.

 _Fuck it._

"Scoutbot? It's Katie." A quiet knock at the door. Scoutbot checked his internal chrono: 3am.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" He said, propping himself up on his elbows and trying not to sound too grumpy.

"Well, yes, but I was, er, busy. Can I come in?"

"You own this place, you can go wherever you like."

The door opened slowly and Miss Pauling came in, tucking a strand of loose hair back behind her ear and cleared her throat. "I came to say sorry for upsetting you. I shouldn't have said what I said. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Huh. Didn't know robots had feelings." He sat up and crossed his legs on the bed, watching her.

"The ones we fought didn't." Miss Pauling admitted. "You ever been to basement storage and seen the ones that you shut down? They're not like you. They don't have minds. They just wanted to destroy and kill. It's easy to...fall back into thinking like that."

"About me?"

"About you." She moved and sat down next to him on the bed. "But that doesn't make it right. So, I apologise for treating you like...a machine. I was stupid and unthinking."

Scoutbot looked at her blankly. She gave a small hopeful smile. "Well, ok." He said finally. They sat silently for a second. "Screw it though, you were right. I mean, Bobby and Rick are my bros, right? They look out for me an' I should look out for them. I never really thought about the cold, not at all."

"You _did_ save their lives." She pointed out. "What I was trying to point out earlier was that they were the ones endangering themselves, not you. Ok, ok, what the three of you did was stupid, but you can look after yourself. I've confined them to the base for a fortnight as punishment for being idiots."

"And my punishment?" He asked, his voice gaining a sharp edge.

"Not so much a punishment as an order." Miss Pauling said, her fingers fidgeting and moving. Scoutbot realised she didn't have her clipboard with her for once, and wondered if that meant anything. "Make sure you inform me or one of my copies if you leave the base."

"That all?"

She shrugged. "Pretty much." She yawned suddenly. "Uh, I better get off to bed. I have to phone NYPD early tomorrow and sort out bail."

"Bail?" Scoutbot asked curiously. She sighed exasperatedly.

"Gerhardt and Sergei got themselves arrested. Something about stealing dinosaur bones. Honestly, I feel like I run a kindergarten sometimes! Anyway, it's the usual drill: pay bail, burn documents, bribe officials, destroy evidence. Pyro is so handy to have around, isn't he?"

"Damn. Wish I'd gone with them." Scoutbot said. Miss Pauling gave him a steely glare. "Hey, what? I like causing trouble."

"Don't we all." She replied with a sudden amused smile that lit up her face. She grabbed him and gave him a hug, flesh against metal, and then looked down at her grease-stained arms with dismay. "Ew."

"Uh, sorry...if I don't stay oiled, I squeak. Night, Katie."

"Goodnight, Scoutbot." She gave a final nod and left, closing the door quietly.

Scoutbot lay back for a moment waiting for her footsteps to die away. _Everyone'll be asleep now, right? And I am_ so _not telling her where I'm going._ He leapt up and headed towards to door determinedly before being yanked backwards by the neck and falling flat on his back.

 _Oh yeah, better unplug the charger first._

* * *

...Sound event recorded...

...Sound event recorded...

...Leaving Hibernation Mode...

...WARNING: Power Critical...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...ERROR: Connection failed after four retries...

...Beep?

* * *

Scoutbot padded along the corridors of the TF Industries base as quietly as his metal feet would allow. The base was silent in a way no place with humans present could be. Motes of dust danced in the air, caught in the infra-red light of his night vision mode. He knew his way around here and he walked confidently past a meeting room...

 _...Where Engineer had introduced him to the rest of the Violet team, and they had rejected his idea to replace the clones with robots..._

He stopped, squared his shoulders, and walked on. A corridor branched to his left. It led to one of the Administrator's old control rooms...

... _Where a Spybot, a robot based on his own model, had killed the Administrator, and then had flicked switches and casually murdered base after base of mercenaries..._

Scoutbot's feet sped up, and he refused to look around anymore. He wasn't scared. Nothing to be scared of. He was a badass robot. Nothing frightened him. Fuck it, this place was _creepy_. He took a right and then a left, and then finally opened the reinforced metal door that led to Engineer's old workshop...

 _...Where he had first woken up as a robot. The place where Dell had met Gray Mann and accepted his deadly offer..._

He paused and squared his shoulders before pushing open the door and looking around cautiously. He realised that the workshop had changed quite a bit since he had last seen it. The neatly arranged tool racks were still there, but things had been moved about. A weird-looking x-ray hung on one wall, showing what looked like a human skeleton with a load of white threads running all around it. Notes in Engineer's precise handwriting and Medic's terrible scrawl were tacked all over the walls. A medicine bottle had fallen to the floor and scattered little white pills across the concrete.

Scoutbot looked about the silent room hesitantly. _So, what's this amazing thing I'm supposed to see?_ There were some battered and scorched robots parts, and Scoutbot picked up a bullet-riddled metal leg, looked at it for a moment, and then threw it away. _Fucking Spies. He got me, didn't he? Sent me on a wild goose chase. I bet he's laughing his goddamn slimy tentacles off. Son of a bitch!_

He sat down in disappointment and looked at the cracked concrete floor. It was then he heard it. A muffled croaking voice, full of static:

"Oh say can you be...be...dawn's light...Oh say you can can can...proudly gleaming bombs...Oh say can you...beep..." It faded away.

"Dude?" Scoutbot looked about, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. He clenched his hands in excitement. _A robot. Another robot! Did hardhat make another one? Was it a prototype?_ "Dude, where are ya? Keep talking!"

There was silence for a moment. Scoutbot jiggled his leg with impatience.

"...Beep?"

His head shot around to a metal cupboard fastened with a sturdy padlock. _But that's too small. No robot could fit in there!_

"Beep boop."

He looked around hastily for some bolt cutters and then determinedly snipped the padlock and ripped it off, wrenching the door open quickly.

"It's ok, buddy, I'm... _holy shit!_ '

Scoutbot took a pace back involuntarily, placing a hand to his throat in horror. There, in the cupboard, connected to a car battery by a couple of crocodile clips, was a Soldier robot's head. Just the head. No body. The blue glow under the helmet flickered and wavered. _What kind of sick fuck keeps a living robot's head locked in a cupboard?!_ With a horrible feeling of betrayal, he knew who had to have done this: Engineer Dell. His friend. The man he trusted. The man who had given him wings. Perhaps he could have expected this kind of thing from one of the nuttier mercs- Medic, creepy bastard that he was, wouldn't hesitate to do this kind of shit. Engineer though? Never.

"Hey, er, dude. Can you hear me?"

The Soldierbot's lights glowed more brightly for a moment. "I am a robot." He stated proudly.

"Yeah I know." Scoutbot replied, nonplussed.

"Halt! Friend or foe?"

"Uh, friend I guess."

"All hail the Maker!"

"Fuck the Maker." Scoutbot said firmly.

"Error: Command is beyond physical parameters of this unit. Beep."

"Crap. You're just one of those dumbass robots of Gray's." Scoutbot looked away, the disappointment so great it felt sharp and bitter in his processors. "This was a stupid idea. I don't know why I bothered."

"Error: Power Failure imminent."

"Good. Screw you and your goddamn Maker. You can all go to Hell." He turned away and started to walk slowly towards the door.

"Wait."

Scoutbot hesitated, fingers on the door handle.

"Don't... leave...m..."

Scoutbot's head snapped round and watched as the lights in the robot's head faded into darkness.

"Hey, dude?"

Scoutbot walked back over and flicked the head with a finger. It fell over with a clatter. Dead. Powerless.

"What a piece o' crap." He paused and then put it upright again and stared at it for a moment before swinging the metal cupboard shut.

He trudged away, shutting the door behind him, feeling worse than when he had arrived. He kicked a wall in frustration, leaving a dent in both the wall and his foot. He wanted nothing more than to fly away from...from...everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. Problem was, if he did that, where would he go? Just like the clones, he didn't belong anywhere except the Institute.

Well, there was one thing he could do, at least: Go and find out what the hell Engineer thought he was playing at.

He flexed his fists with a squeaking noise. Time to get some answers.

 **Chapter Five: Scoutbot goes to confront Engineer Dell, but will he just end up with more questions?**


	7. Insert Title Here

_Author's Note: I wish this site would allow me more formatting! It would make the 'code' bits of this story stand out so much better if they were in courier, or something similar. Anyway, onwards. It seems everyone approves of the cameo by Gerhardt and Sergei in this chapter. As I said to my reviewers, everything is better with dinosaurs. Now, it's time for the first hints of what is to come..._

 _And before everyone asks, no I haven't got the title of this chapter wrong..._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Five: Insert Title Here**

Engineer Dell was working on a practical problem, as he enjoyed doing. This one was sort-of his own fault, but it was an interesting conundrum and could result in a whole load of further research if it went well.

He stood back and looked at his creation. The colour was wrong, somehow. It was a perfect match, but it looked...wrong.

"Hey, hardhat?"

"Howdy, Flappy." He smiled with pleasure at the sound of his friend's voice. "C'mon in."

Predictably enough, Scoutbot had already pushed open the door without asking by this point. He padded in, but rather than take his usual perch on the workbench, he prowled around the room uncertainly.

"Problem, son?"

"Huh? Yeah...well, no. Not really. I mean, no, no problem. I'm cool. It's...what the flying fuck is that?!" He pointed with at Engineer's latest creation.

"Oh, my latest project." Dell held up the severed human hand proudly. He pushed his metal fingers inside the stump and the fingers wiggled. "Artificial hand. Latex and silicone rubber mix, with gel packs deeper inside to give it the right feel. I like my metal one, but I thought this might come in handy- pun intended- if I want to go out in public without a glove on."

Scoutbot craned closer, his head cocked on one side. "Oh...yeah, it's false, right?"

"See, that's the problem." Engineer put the hand down. "It don't look properly real yet. I got the colour matched, even added little hairs just like mine, but heck, it still don't look right."

"Creepy." Scoutbot gave it a poke, watching how it yielded to his fingers just like normal human flesh. "Dude, I reckon you got it too perfect. I mean, I'm shiny and one colour all over, but humans are speckly, wrinkly an' shit. You gotta mix some crappy bits into the colour, that'd sort it."

"Dang it, boy, you're good at this! I reckon you're right." Engineer said happily, turning the severed limb over and over. "You got a good eye there. So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Uh... like I said..." Scoutbot muttered, shrugging with a squeak. Engineer smiled to himself. He had never had any difficulty reading people, and even though Scoutbot's face was expressionless, he was still so very easy to read. _Poor kid._ "I just came over to... to... uh..."

"Well, let me fix that squeaky joint anyway. Sit yourself down." Dell gestured at a chair. "What did I tell you about keepin' those joints lubricated?" He wandered over to a shelf to get his lithium grease.

"I know, I know. It started squeakin' in front of Medic Albrecht, y'know? He made this expression at the noise, like he'd sucked a lemon. I said I needed lubrication, so he gave me this tube of stuff, saying he just wanted me to stop makin' 'zat atrocious din'."

Dell's arm slowly dropped to his side. "You don't say?"

"It was no good though. Didn't do jack-shit."

"You...used it?" Engineer asked, trying hard not to laugh. It wasn't like Medic to pull practical jokes, but there is no way that could have been an honest mistake. The man could have a weird sense of humour at times. "Now hold out that arm. I, ah, well, don't think what Medic gave you was really meant for robots."

"No? What's that stuff for then?"

Aiming his can of spray grease carefully, Dell explained a few of the uses of medical lubricant. Scoutbot shuddered with a rattling noise.

"Dude. Gross."

"I think he was havin' a joke at your expense." Dell explained. "I'll have a word with him. That kinda thing just ain't on in my book."

"You're gonna yell at him?" Scoutbot asked.

"Something like that." Dell explained. He smiled at the robot. "If folks mess with you, they mess with _me_. You're a good friend and I know you got my back should I need it. You and me against the world, right pardner? Other arm now. So, you ready to tell me what's eating you now?"

"Uh..." Scoutbot slumped over in defeat, looking at his swinging feet. "Nothin'. I'm good."

"I was talking to Engineer Jed this morning. Bobby and Rick are fine, recovering well, 'cept for Bobby gettin' a nasty cold." Dell said idly.

"Good. Yeah."

"It'll take time for everyone to accept you, Scoutbot." Dell said softly, carefully spraying grease into the robot's elbow. "Not everyone accepts the unusual and the strange right away, but you got friends here. Don't ever doubt it."

There was silence for a moment as Dell moved on to the robot's hand joints. He rattled the can, and sprayed it with a hiss.

"Dell?"

"Yeah, son?"

"You know, those other robots. Gray Mann's. What were they like?"

"You met enough of them yourself, surely?"

"Yeah, but I know jack-shit about machines. How were they built? You ever get to... study one?"

"Huh. Well, I took a look at the ones that shut down when you shot Gray Mann." Dell said thoughtfully, sitting back and rubbing his hands on a rag. "We got them in storage downstairs. Never found a use for 'em. Unlike you, they run on a combination of an Australium core starter and a two-stroke gas engine. It means they can go longer without recharging, but it's fearful expensive to keep them running. You're all-round better made - tighter parameters, better machining and so on. They were mass-produced without much care at all. Their programming's terrible. Dumb as a box of rocks, they are."

"Yeah, I remember that." Scoutbot said with a half-chuckle. "Funny that- what with them being based on me, cos, you know, I'm smart."

"I got a theory about that." Dell replied, putting the grease back on its shelf. "I've wondered, sometimes, if all your processin' power is there, just not bein' used. A blank slate behind all that bad programmin'."

"Could...could it be woken up? Could one of them become smart?"

"Only way I can think that could happen is if their programming got corrupted somehow. Say, a sudden power outage, water getting inside their processor casing, a logical fail, lightning strike, something like that. Perhaps even a blow to the head!"

"Huh." Scoutbot said thoughtfully. Engineer looked at him worriedly. It wasn't like any scout, mechanical or otherwise, to be this thoughtful and quiet.

"Mind if I give ya some advice, Scoutbot?"

"Go for it, hardhat."

"Get yourself a name, son. 'Scoutbot' is just a label. You need a name, like the rest of us. I think it'll make a difference."

"A name?" Scoutbot said in puzzlement. "Can't see that'll do any good."

"Just give it a bit of thought, Flappy. You deserve a name."

"Yeah...yeah ok, I'll do that. Hey, Engie?"

"Yep?"

"You got a spare car battery 'round here?" Scoutbot asked, trying to look innocent. Dell turned to look at him with a wry smile.

"Now why exactly would you need one of those? You're not going off jacking cars with your Scout pals, are ya?"

"How do you know about...I mean, no! 'Course not. Anyway, I'd not need a car battery for that. I'd need a coat hanger, insulating tape, wire strippers and a set of pliers. Uh, so I heard." He said, swinging his arms wide innocently. "I just got a, uh, project I wanna try. It's...a surprise."

"Is it illegal?" Dell asked suspiciously. "Will it harm anyone?"

"What? No! Jeez, it's like you don't trust me at all."

"Aw heck, I'd trust you with my life, son." Dell gave the boy a friendly pat on his shoulder and grinned. "Just not sure I'd trust you with my tech."

"I _am_ your tech, dumbass."

Dell laughed out loud. "You got me there! Ok, let me find a good 'un for ya." He strolled over to a cupboard and hefted a battery out. "This 'un is for a diesel engine. Good cold cranking amps, nice an' strong. Should last a while. Bring it back when it needs recharging."

"Sure thing." Scoutbot gave a nod and accepted the battery with a grunt.

"Good luck. And be careful!"

"Thanks, dude." Scoutbot gave a wave and left.

Dell looked down at the prosthetic limb he had been working on, deep in thought. Scoutbot was up to something; he was certain of that much. His one remaining real hand itched with a desire to go and spy on him, but he stopped himself for two reasons. First, he was not a Spy, and secondly, it was about time someone showed the robot a little trust around here. Poor fella- he had saved all their lives, but he was still an outsider to many of the folks here.

What in Sam-Hill did he want a car battery for, anyway? Hmm. Engineer decided the best approach was to wait and see what happened next.

Later in his extraordinarily long life, Dell Conagher would look back upon that moment as a time when he had really, really, dropped the ball, and wonder how he could have been so stupid.

* * *

Scoutbot did not know the meaning of the word 'introspection', and wouldn't have recognised that he wasn't very introspective by nature because, logically, realising that would have required a measure of introspection. So, instead, he found himself stashing his car battery in his room before returning to work that day, and wondering why the hell he hadn't beaten the snot out of Engineer Dell for keeping a robot head alive in his workshop. It just...hadn't happened. Fucking jerk had just been too _nice!_

During the day, he acted as a messenger for the Institute, zipping between the various islands and building sites and carrying messages and materials. Normally, speeding through the air over the sparkling blue sea was distraction enough, but today he couldn't concentrate. He kept thinking back to that robot head in the cupboard. Could it become more than just a machine? Someone like him?

Since the robots had all been designed after his own plans, did that make him...sort of responsible for them?

"Leetle robot is quiet." Tiny Vlad said, clutched in his metal hands as he transported the shrunken man back to the main island of the Institute. While everyone else used teleporters, Tiny Vlad had an understandable dislike of them, and he was small enough to carry anyway.

"Huh? Normally you complain that I talk too much."

"You do. Is annoying, but normal for you. Quiet Scoutbot is troubled Scoutbot, I am thinking."

"Ah, jeez. Just let me do my job, ok?" The Russian just gave a mutter of laughter as they came into land on the top of the main building and he was carefully lowered to the ground.

"Be happy, Scoutbot. We are in good place to solve problems, da?"

"Shit, dude. How can you say that when it was an accident _here_ that turned you into a shrimp?"

"I am leetle, not seafood." Vlad replied evenly.

"Well, just don't let anyone tred on ya."

"Last time that happened, I punched their foot and broke it." Vlad replied with a grin. "Demo had limp for days because Doktor would not heal it."

"Uh, good." Scoutbot said. "Seriously, though, you doin' ok? Can't be easy."

Tiny Vlad shrugged and gave a slight smile. "Will be better when I am big again. Leetle Heavy is not so useful, and I miss Sasha so much. Sometimes, I get angry but cannot even crush things to feel better! But, there are people who have worst lives. This is good place to live, after all. There is sunshine, I have plenty of food, and my Doktor is here."

"Huh. You got the patience of a fucking saint." Scoutbot commented.

"At end of today, Jacques, Lawrence and Vlad are having poker game on beach." Tiny Vlad said, changing the subject. "You want to join? Is game for us strange people, but we let Sniper come anyway."

"Well, he _is_ pretty fuckin' strange." Scoutbot replied. "But...I got things to do, sorry dude. Next time."

"Da, we will miss you."

"Huh, you just want another person to fleece! You're too damn good at poker. Anyway, enjoy yourselves."

The rest of the day dragged on, no more eventful than normal. Admittedly, a normal day at the Institute meant explosions, 'accidental' fires and a lot of shouting, but Scoutbot barely noticed. He had got the battery. If he wanted to, he could get that stupid robot head working again. The idea simply would not leave his mind and kept pestering him through the day. Each hour took an eternity to pass, and Scoutbot realised he couldn't wait for the end of the day.

 _Did it really try to say 'Don't leave me'? Did I really hear that? Robots can't imagine stuff, can they?_

He was going to go back and see the Soldierbot again, wasn't he? Fuck it. It was like he had no choice. Maybe it was fate, or some such shit. It was that squid's fault. Why did Jacques have to complicate his life? It had been awesome before all this!

Hadn't it?

Once night had fallen, Scoutbot sneaked off to the teleporter and soon found himself back in Violet Engineer's old workshop again. The metal cupboard with its broken padlock was just as he had left it, and he quickly opened it and replaced the old battery with the new one, making a mental note to charge the old battery up so he could swap them as needed. He attached the second crocodile clip, and then stood back.

...Rebooting after power fail...

...Attempting to recover lost data...

...ERROR: Data Corrupt...

...ERROR: Data Corrupt...

...Repairing bad data...

...ERROR: Checksum fail...

...ERROR: Checksum fail...

...Deleting damaged data...

...Formatting...100% done...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...ERROR: Connection failed after four retries...

...Sound event recorded...

...Visual event recorded...

...What?

"Beep boop, maggots."

"Great. You're still dumb." Scoutbot said. He picked up the head and placed it on top of its metal prison.

"Halt! Friend or foe?"

"Not this again. Look, asshat, I'm here to help. You and I, we're two of a kind. So you gotta cut out that programmed crap, right?"

"Halt! Friend or foe?"

"Hey, pay attention to me! Are you even listenin'?"

"Halt! Friend or foe?"

"Ah, jeez, ok, ok, friend."

"I am a robot."

"Yeah, so am I. You remember? I came here last night."

"Beep?"

"Whatever." Scoutbot sighed, fidgeting on the spot for a moment and looking down at his jointed hands. He had to admit he was completely out of his depth here. He knew fuck-all about programming, and that was a fact.

"You...came back." The robot suddenly set in its flat, emotionless voice.

Scoutbot looked up at the head. "Yeah. Yeah, I came back."

"You are a robot."

"Yeah, I'm a robot, like you. So, what's your name?"

"Soldierbot, 8825d-121, rank, Private."

"Your name sucks."

"Designation changed: This unit's name is now Ucks."

"What? Hell no!" Scoutbot tapped his fingers for a moment. "That's a shitty name."

"Designation changed: This unit's name is now Shitty Ucks."

Scoutbot looked at the Soldierbot and started to laugh.

"Warning: Speech recognition failed."

"I was laughing, dude."

"Laughing." The robot stated. Scoutbot could not tell if it was puzzled by the word or the idea, or even if it was puzzled at all, or just repeating him.

"Ah, jeez. Look, I know, I'm gonna call you Eagle, 'cos Soldier loves eagles and all that patriotic shit. So, your name's Eagle, ok?"

"Designation changed: This unit's name is now Eagle, ok."

"No, just Eagle. Your name's Eagle."

"Designation changed: This unit's name is now Eagle." Soldierbot said.

"You know, I think this is gonna be fun."

"What is your name?" Eagle suddenly asked. Scoutbot looked back in surprise.

"I'm called Scoutbot."

"Error: class given as name."

"Nah, Scoutbot kinda _is_ my name." Scoutbot insisted.

"Error: class given as name."

"You're a persistent little bastard."

"No."

"No? What d'ya mean?" Scoutbot asked curiously.

"No. I am Eagle."

Scoutbot looked at the robot, feeling a little thrill of hope. _Engineer was right. There's something more under that shitty programming. There's...a person. Someone just like me._ He had suddenly been handed something to do; something worthwhile. He hadn't even realised he had been missing direction, but now he had a mission:

 _Saving Private Soldierbot._

 **In Chapter Six: Scoutbot finds out more about Soldierbot's past from Jacques.**


	8. Seeing Red

_Author's note: You guys have a strange obsession with Medic and lubricants, I just want you all to know that! You know, one of the most difficult parts of writing this story is writing from Scoutbot's POV. He has no facial expressions, no heart to beat faster, and can't smell or feel hot or cold. It's actually quite a challenge to get his body language right. Ah well, I did my best. Now let's see what happens next...  
_

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Six: Seeing Red**

Scoutbot threw himself into a cheap plastic chair opposite the robot head and put his feet up on the metal cabinet next to him.

"Ok, dude, here's how it's gonna work. You got a brain in there somewhere, an' I'm gonna teach you to use it. No more of that Maker shit..."

"All Hail the Maker!"

"See, that's I mean! That stuff's just fucked up. Anyway, he's dead."

"The...Maker...Error: Input is outside of acceptable reality."

"He's dead an' gone. I... uh..." Scoutbot paused. "...saw it happen. He was shot."

"The Maker must be repaired!" Eagle stated, his voice raising in pitch in a way Scoutbot hadn't heard before.

"No, dude, humans don't work that way. They can't be repaired like us." Scoutbot replied. "Anyway, he was bad to the bone. A bad man."

"He was...Error...Beep..."

"Cut out that beep boop crap. Listen: he wanted to take over the world, and he used robots, _you,_ to kill people who got in his way. He killed _my_ Maker." Scoutbot felt his hands clench as he remembered Gray Mann casually shooting Violet Engineer just because of an argument. Because he could.

"The Maker cannot die!" Eagle wailed.

"He can, and he did. They both did. There's no Maker any more, you don't have to do what anyone tells ya to."

"Error: Command needed."

"It's not needed!" Scoutbot leapt to his feet and leant over the robot earnestly. "My Maker never had to tell me what to do. He let me choose, 'cos he was cool. Sure, there were rules and stuff and I could get into trouble, but it was up to me, y'know?"

Eagle was silent. Scoutbot looked at him closely, trying to decide if he was thinking or had broken down somehow. He waved a hand in front of the robot's helmet.

"Dude? You still there?"

"I am sad." Eagle declared suddenly.

Scoutbot stared back in surprise and shock. "Hey what?"

"The Maker is broken and cannot be fixed. I am sad."

"Oh. Yeah, I get that." Scoutbot said slowly. "But now, you got me. You traded up."

"You are not a Maker."

"Nah. I'm a robot. Just like you."

"Statement incorrect. Warning: Unit Scoutbot, name unknown, rank unknown, is missing correct identification markings."

"Uh...what did all that mean?"

"Warning: Unit Scoutbot, name unknown, rank unknown, is missing correct identification markings." Eagle said patiently.

"In English, dude."

"Warning: Unit Scoutbot, name unknown, rank unknown, is missing correct identification markings."

"Ah jeez. This gets old fast. Hang on, markings...you mean I'm painted wrong?"

"You are #65336c." Eagle stated. "Scoutbots are to be sprayed with colour code #5885A2, accentuating colour #B88035."

"Colours...you mean I'm purple? Yeah, that's how I was made." Scoutbot looked at his violet body thoughtfully. "Guess it'll do. Never thought too much about it. Hey, what's your favourite colour? Mine's green."

There was a pause, and Eagle's blue glow faded for a moment. "My favourite colours are #5885A2 and #B88035."

"Bullshit!" Scoutbot replied. "Look, most humans are some sorta boring dull pink or brown colour. Don't think any of them say that their skin colour is their favourite colour! They choose one they like."

"I...I...like..." Eagle stuttered, his light fading again, "...Beep...Error...Algorithm is outside designated operating system...data corrupt...data...processsssiiiinnnnggg...".

"Hey, you ok?" Scoutbot asked, suddenly worried and placing his hand on top of Eagle's helmet.

"...innng... innng..." Eagle slurred. "I...I...like #ff0000. I like... red."

"Damn," Scoutbot said softly, "I know that was tough, but you gotta fight it. Feels good to decide for yourself, huh?"

"I like red." Eagle replied firmly. "I like it. That is the colour I like. It is red."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it..."

"I like red!" Eagle shouted.

"This is a big thing for you, huh?" Scoutbot said thoughtfully. "I guess...that kinda makes sense. Hey, why don't we find out what else you like or don't like?"

Again there was that pause and Eagle's lights dipped and brightened again. "I would _like_ that." He said, his voice rising from its usual flat tone in eagerness.

Over the course of the next hour, Eagle decided he liked dogs and birds but disliked cats (Scoutbot doubted the robot had ever met any animal, but just nodded.) He liked 'shiny things', the seaside, and having a good, steady power supply. Scoutbot remembered what he had been singing when they had first met, and taught him the correct words to the Star-Spangled Banner (first verse only...he could never remember the others). Eagle begged him to sing it over and over again until Scoutbot eventually told the robot he was getting really really bored of it.

"What is 'bored'?" Eagle asked.

"Uh..." Scoutbot thought, trying to figure out how to explain this one. "I guess it's doing something over and over that you don't want to do. Or when nothin's happening that's interesting."

"My container is boring." Eagle declared. "It is dark and quiet."

"How long have you been there anyway?"

"Computing...internal chronometer indicates 11 months, 2 days, 5 hours, 46 minutes, 5 seconds."

"Shit. They locked you away for nearly a year?! Dude, how did your power not run out sooner?"

"Hibernation mode is engaged when visual and/or sound events are not recorded for 15 minutes."

"Oh, right. I can shut down if I feel like it. Nothin' _makes_ me shut down, though. I sometimes do when recharging 'cos it's fucking boring just sitting still." Scoutbot stopped awkwardly, looking at the headless robot. "Uh, sorry dude. Why were you locked in here anyway?"

"The thin striped human disabled me with an electromagnetic pulse device. Then, the small human with the hard yellow skull removed my head and brought it here."

"Who... oh... So...Spy sapped you, and then Engineer brought you here? Why didn't he bring your arms and legs along?"

"Error: data missing."

"You could just say 'I don't know.'"

"I don't know." Eagle said obediently.

"What did..." Scoutbot paused, one hand clenching. "What did Engie do to you?"

"The small human with the hard plastic head performed standard diagnostic routines to check for data corruption and connected me to a secondary power source. After a period of 17 days, 5 hours, 3 minutes and 55 seconds, he presented me to the faceless rubber human, the small purple human, the thin striped human, the human in the white dress, the two identical juvenile humans, the long thin human, the large human, the one-eyed human and the eyeless human with the metal head. They spoke in loud voices and then I was put back in the cupboard and engaged hibernation mode."

"So...he shoved you in a box for three weeks, and then showed you off to the guys? _And he never told me about it?_ "

"Error: Dat...I don't know."

"None of them told me. Not a fucking one." Scoutbot murmured. "Not even Bobby and Rick. Jeez." He sat back suddenly, his back hitting the chair with a metal clang.

"Name Unknown is sad."

"I _told_ you, my name is Scoutbo... ah, who gives a damn. Yeah. I thought I... ugh, forget it. Look, I better go. I'll set the battery to charge before I leave so you got some power tomorrow, ok? And I'll try to find some shit to bring along that'll stop you getting bored."

"Faeces are not interesting." Eagle stated.

"No, I mean...stuff. I dunno, something fun for you."

"You will come back?" Eagle asked plaintively.

"Yeah, I'll come back. I'm not leavin' you here. No way." He promised, curling his hands into fists in determination. He stood up and started to leave, and then turned back. "I'm not like those other guys."

* * *

"Hey, fishy."

"Fishy fishy. Jacques, you there?" Scoutbot sprinkled some fish flakes into the water, watching them float for a few moments before sinking into the still sea water. "Dude, I gotta talk to you. C'mon, it's not day yet, you can't be asleep."

The water erupted like a geyser and Jacques burst to the surface, scrambling out of the water and onto the pebbly beach, tentacles writhing in dismay.

"Mon dieu!" He said, holding his nose and wafting the air. "What _is_ that sstinking rubbish you put in the water?! Ugh."

"It's ok, it's just fish food." Scoutbot explained, waving his hands soothingly. "I thought you'd like it. Well, I thought you'd _notice_ it, anyway. Ok, ok, I admit I was just dicking you around. Look, I want to ask you some stuff. Hey...you ok?"

Jacques had curled up with a hand over his mouth and was making retching noises. He gulped, closed his eyes and took a few deep, steady breaths. Scoutbot patted him on the back, but Jacques waved him away with a hand. After a moment, he gave a deep sigh, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"I have felt ssick all day. The ssmell of that vile product was a little too much." Jacques explained sadly. He heaved again and took another deep breath, his gills showing their red lining for a moment. "I think I may have caught sstomach flu."

"Like I said before, you oughtta go see the Doc." Scoutbot said in concern. "Maybe you could try Albrecht. He's not so bad. I mean, he's as crazy as the rest, but he hangs around with Tiny Vlad, so I guess he's better with, uhh..."

"Tentacled freakss?" Jacques finished wryly.

"Wasn't gonna say it, but yeah."

"Sso tactful."

"You want me to get you anythin'? Like an alka-seltzer or aspirin, or whatever?"

"Non merci. However, it is kind of you to offer. I think the besst cure is resst." The Spy dipped a tentacle into the water, and then slid back in to the sea.

"Ok, if you're sure." Scoutbot said. "Look, I wanted to ask you about...about what I found in hardhat's old workshop."

"Ah, you found it?" Jacques asked eagerly.

"If by _it_ you mean a robot's frickin' _head_ , then yeah." Scoutbot said, waving his arms about as a sudden wave of frustrated anger overtook him. "He was left switched on in a cupboard. I mean, what the _fuck_?! Why was he left there?"

"I wassn't there, but I _am_ a copy of Violet Ssspy- albeit it a very changed one- and I know his thoughtss at the time." Jacques said, fiddling idly with a pebble. "They were the only oness left who could fight. They were exhausted. They were dessperate. The robotss were attacking everywhere and it felt like the end of the world was coming."

"So they took it out on him by lockin' him up?"

"No, not at all." Jacques said, waving a clawed hand in dismissal. "I won't bore you with the mathematicss, but what they learnt from ssstudying the robot enabled them to find and attack Gray Mann and win. If not for that captive Ssoldierbot, they would have _losst_. I would not exist- you would be piecess in a workshop, and Gray Mann would be ruling the world."

"Ok, ok, I get it. Bad shit happens in wars. I know that. But why did they just _leave_ him there?"

"Overssight, I believe." Jacques said simply. He squirmed uncomfortably and rubbed his stomach. "It was forgotten in the russh of victory. I had forgotten all about it until we sspoke the other night. "

"If it'd been a _human_ head he'd not have been forgott... What's so funny?"

"I guesss you have not heard that sstory. I will tell you all about it ssometime." Jacques said, snorting with mirth. He suddenly turned melancholy and swirled his tentacles in the water, swishing them back and forth idly. "You are right, though. It is...sso easy to believe you are a model of tolerance when you are one of the lucky majority. And yet, flip the coin, ssee the undersside, and you will learn that you treated all those different to yoursself as alienss."

"Huh? What's all that faggy shit about?"

"Mon dieu. Why do I have to deal with sssimpletons? I mean I agree." Jacques added with a sigh. "Sso, what sstate is this robot head in? Did it have any power left?"

"That's the thing, dude. He's...well, kinda dumb, but he can think. Like, properly and stuff!" Scoutbot started to explain the events of the last couple of nights, arms moving jerkily with enthusiasm. As he talked, Jacques' glowing yellow eyes widened with surprise, and the patches of hairless blue skin where his eyebrows should have been hitched up his head.

"Asstonishing." He said at last, quickly dipping under the water and rising again, rivulets running off his skin in streams. "You have achieved a lot, mon ami. What do you intend to do with thiss 'Eagle' of yourss now?"

"Not a fucking clue." Scoutbot slumped over suddenly. "I...guess I'm gonna work it out as I go along."

"Do you intend to tell Engineer Dell?" Jacques asked in a neutral tone.

"I dunno." Scoutbot said, waving a hand helplessly. "I mean, he left Eagle there, right? But...he's been good to me. But is that just 'cos he kinda made me? I... guess I feel pretty pissed at him right now, but I dunno if that's fair or not. Does he give a damn about other robots? I mean, would he just decide Eagle was dangerous and shut him down? Fucked if I know the answers."

"I ssee no clear path." Jacques confessed. "Perhapss it is best if you ssee how far you can get on your own, and then sshow Engineer your work, once you have enough to impresss him?" The transformed man discretely covered his mouth, burped and gave a nauseated moan.

"Woah, you know what? I reckon I should leave you alone so you can rest." Scoutbot said quickly, scrambling out of range. "Anyway, if you puke on me, I'll rust. Hope you feel better soon, dude."

"Mmm." Jacques said, closing his eyes slowly and swallowing. "I think you're right. I will go and get some sssleep. Hopefully I will feel better tomorrow."

"Go to the fuckin' Doc if you don't, ok? And thanks for listenin'."

"Au'voir then, my metal friend."

Jacques vanished under the sea. A clawed hand shot out of the water and waved, and then Scoutbot was left alone on the pebbly shore.

 **In Chapter Seven: Engineer loses his temper, and Scoutbot makes a bad mistake...**


	9. Stealing the Rules

_Author's note: Here's a fun fact for you: you really can break into a car with a coat hanger, some insulating tape, wire strippers and a set of pliers, as Scoutbot mentioned last chapter. I've not done this. Nope. Totally not. *cough* Well, ok...let's just say you learn some odd skills as a duty manager of a large store. However, the good news is that modern cars have microchipped keys and electronic starters and it mostly won't work on any model built later than about 2000.  
_

 _How do you jack a car this way, you ask? Well, oddly enough, I'm not going to tell you. Here, have some story instead._

 ** _Saving Private Soldierbot_**

 ** _Chapter Seven: Stealing the rules_**

 _Now this is getting just plain annoying._

Dell Conagher knew where everything was in his workshop. Always. Everything had to be in order or he'd not be able to rest until it was. Some engineers he had known were happy, for instance, to keep all their screws in a big box and then rummage whenever they needed. Such sloppiness absolutely infuriated Dell, though. If he wanted, for instance, a self-tapping three quarter inch screw with a round head and a Torx 2 screw drive, he damn well knew exactly where he he'd find out without rummaging about endlessly in a spiky tetanus-trap of old pointy bits of metal.

Until now.

The paint he had wanted to use to create a new colour mix for his new hand prosthetic was missing. It was just plain _not there._ There were other things missing, too- a couple of power cords, a wire stripper, his favourite long-nose pliers. He gave an angry sigh and went to flick on his radio while he tried to figure this out.

 _Someone had stolen his goddamn radio!_

His metal fist slammed into the worktop so hard he dented it, and he spat out several curses that would have surprised anyone used to his polite and mild mannered ways. _Nobody_ was allowed to mess with his workshop, not even the other Engineers. They all knew and respected that, since they shared the same jealous attitude towards their working space. Sure, they borrowed things from each other all the time, but they knew that they had to ask first. The last time anyone had taken something without asking from an Engineer in the Institute- in that case, Soldier had taken a jerry can of gas from Engineer Connor- the resultant outburst of violence had kept Medic busy for an entire week.

Dell forced his robotic hand to let go of the bench, ignoring the finger-shaped dents he had left in the metal, and made himself think. _So, who's been in here recently?_ Well, that was easy enough to find out. He strode over to a cupboard and opened it, revealing a television, flicking it on and then rewinding the tape drive sat next to it. Whoever the nasty little thief was, he'd reckoned without Dell's motion-sensitive cameras, hadn't he?

Lips pursed, he watched what his video had recorded, brow furrowing in puzzlement as he watched Scoutbot sneak around his lab, looking in cupboards and stealing the missing items. _What in Sam-Hill is the li'l metal fella playing at?_ He couldn't make any sense of the items stolen- it seemed almost random. Watching the tape, though, it was obvious that the robot knew exactly what items he was after, no more, no less. This wasn't just some random crime. He was up to something.

Dell sat down slowly and drummed his fingers along the bench. He could live without the stolen items, true, but it was the principle of the thing. He had two choices: he could go and kick Scoutbot's ass into the next century, or wait and see what the metal man was up to. Anger and curiosity waged war in his head.

"Dag nab it." He muttered, taking his hardhat off and running a hand over his bald head. He _did_ want to know what Scoutbot was up to, but he also wanted to make sure the robot knew that he _never_ stole things from his workshop.

A thought struck him, and he chuckled sourly to himself. How did you punish a robot? Remove his batteries? Take off his limbs? That seemed pretty extreme for a petty theft. He frowned, and clenched his metal hand. In fact, short of dismembering him, was there anything they could do to stop Scoutbot doing exactly what he wanted, when he wanted?

Perhaps a little chat was in order. He was good at little chats.

* * *

"Hey, Eagle, wake up." Scoutbot said, dumping his newly acquired items on the bench.

...Sound event recorded...

...Waking from hibernation mode...

...Power at 45%...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...ERROR: Connection failed after four retries...

...Name Unknown came back!...

...I am happy...

"Halt, friend or... or..." Eagle's voice stuttered to an uncertain stop. "Name Unknown has returned."

"Yeah, ten outta ten for observation, pal." Scoutbot said drily. "Look, I got some stuff for you."

"You have things."

"Sure do. I, uh, borrowed some crap from Engie. I reckon he owes me, right? So, I got some power cables so you don't have to be on that shitty battery power. Means you can stay on as long as you want."

"Power usage is specified by read-only algorithms." Eagle replied.

"Screw that." Scoutbot replied easily, rolling out the thick cables and then hefting up a large black metal box with cooling fins. "Shit, this thing's heavy."

"What is the heavy shit?" Eagle asked curiously.

"Tranformer. If I got it right, it'll let you use mains power. If I didn't, uh...well, it's gonna work anyway. Bound to. Guess I gotta do it fast or you'll shut down again, right? Fuck, like I understand this stuff. Most I ever did was jackin'cars...Hey, I know! I'll connect the transformer to the battery and your power at the same time. The battery'll be fried, but you won't switch off. Sound cool?" Scoutbot padded off and plugged the transformer into a large socket on the wall.

"I will have power?"

"Yeah, that's it." Scoutbot grabbed the two crocodile clips attached to the transformer and clipped them like a daisy chain onto the clips already on the battery- and then leapt back quickly.

A massive bang and flash, followed by the stink of ozone...didn't happen. The transformer hummed slightly. Scoutbot carefully released the joined clips from the battery.

"Phew." Scoutbot said. "So, how does it feel?"

"Diagnostic: Power at 100%, stable. Warning: Diagnostic may be faulty; no fluctuation in power registered."

"Whatever." Scoutbot said airily. "I guess it worked then. Cool!"

"My power can't fail?" Eagle asked.

"That's the idea. Now, I got some things for ya, bro. Look at this!" Scoutbot produced a small, bright red tin. "Red paint. You like red, so how about I paint you?"

"Yes! Red is a colour I like. I am excited!" Eagle replied, his voice getting louder.

"Jeez, you're like a toddler." Scoutbot said with a laugh, patting the head fondly. "So, sit still...uh, you know what I mean..." He took a brush, dipped it in the paint and clumsily sloshed the paint over the metal head in front of him. "This is gonna be awesome. Huh, maybe I should change my colour. What do you think?"

Eagle was silent for a moment, and Scoutbot thought he hadn't been listening, then he spoke. "Name Unknown likes green."

"Yeah I do!" Scoutbot said with a pleased laugh, painting a stripe down Eagle's helmet. "You remembered that?"

"Name Unknown told me it liked green."

"*He*, dude. I'm a guy."

"Error: Robots do not possess gender or reproductive abilities."

"Yeah, Solly's told me that a load of times. Well, not in those words, ya know? He's an asshat. Fuck him."

"Error: Name Unknown does not possess reproductive abilities and cannot..."

"Jeez! No, it's, like, a figure of speech, ok? Damn." Scoutbot snorted with laughter. "You know what? You're good company. There, I'm done. Wanna see?"

"Yes."

Scoutbot held up a mirror, and Eagle looked into it silently. The paint was garishly bright and streaking, obviously not designed to be applied to metal, and the blue glow from Eagle's eyes clashed horribly with it.

"So, what do ya think?"

"I am red." Eagle said quietly. "No one else looks like this. Looks like...me."

"You know what? That right there- that's what it's all about." Scoutbot said eagerly. "The world wants us, wants _everyone_ , robots and humans, to fit in little boxes, all neat and tidy. They want us to be obey, just do what we're told. Follow all the little rules that make us fuckin' boring. I say, screw that. I got my own life and my own shit I want to get done."

"I...I..." Eagle stammered to a halt. "Error: This unit's processing ability has been compromised. Logical routines are functioning outside accepted parameters. Recommended action: Decommision this unit."

"Hell no! Listen to me." Scoutbot leaned forward intently. "You're thinkin' for yourself. First time ever, right? That's not a crime. Hardhat- _my_ Maker- let me do what I want."

"I... don't...want..." Eagle said slowly, his voice pausing and filling with static. The blue light from under the metal helmet started to dim. "Error: Logical failure. Faulty unit failsafes engaged: Unit shutting down."

"No!" Scoutbot shouted, racing over and picking up the head, still tacky with paint. "You don't have to do it! Don't shut down! That shit Gray Mann put in your processor is all junk!"

"So...sorry..." Eagle murmured.

"Don't you dare give up!" Scoutbot said, shaking the head roughly. His voice cracked. "You're not _allowed_ to give up! _Stay with me!_ "

"Thank...y..."

"You're Eagle! You're _you! Don't leave me alone!"_ He stopped suddenly, realising what he had just said and, as Eagle's light faded to nothing, the horrible truth he had finally admitted to himself.

He was alone.

There was no one like him.

No one lived in the same world he did.

Except Eagle.

He put the silent robot down carefully and wiped the red paint off his hands. He slumped into a chair and stared into midair. He did not cry. He was a tough dude, and tough dudes didn't cry. Robots didn't cry. So, he did not cry. Could not cry. Fuck.

He sat there for a while longer. He wasn't sure how long. The world seemed to drain of colour as he sat there. Everyone was grey and boring. He kept hoping that Eagle might suddenly reboot, just as dumb as ever or maybe a little smarter. The robot stayed silent though. Dead. Eventually, he thumped a fist against a bench with a metallic clang and stood up.

He trudged out of the room slowly, not looking back. He stepped onto the teleport and whisked himself back to the Institute.

"...is not a valid use of our resources, Tavish!" He heard Miss Pauling say as he stepped through the teleporter. She sounded angry, as she so often did.

"Ach, what do ye know about it? Ye're a wee bairn only just out 'a nappies! I tell ye, people are clammering for strawberry flavoured whiskey! I'm an expert on the water o'life, I am. Ye're just a teetotaller, what do ye ken aboot any of it?"

"Now you're just being Scottish to annoy me. I said no, and I meant...Scoutbot? Are you alright?" The robot just waved her away dismissively and walked past.

He walked slowly out of the main building and down to the pebble beach. There was a murmur of voices as he walked through the palm trees and he realised that Jacques wasn't alone.

He shrugged, and continued on anyway. Perhaps a bit of distraction would be a good thing.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

 **In Chapter Eight: It's time to meet Sniper Lawrence, and Scoutbot realises he has forgotten something very important...  
**


	10. Soliloquy

_Author's Note: Here we are again. Have a big old helping of robotic angst, why don't you? I think/hope it's justified. Thanks everyone for reading so far- I really appreciate all your comments, favourites and all the rest of it. I write for my own enjoyment, but knowing other people are going to read encourages me to be a bit more perfectionist. Of course, now I've said the word 'Perfectionist', you're going to find mistakes, right?_

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Eight: Soliloquy**

Scout stomped through the palm trees onto Jacques' little beach just as Sniper Lawrence started complaining.

"Ugh, show pony, can you try an' not coat the cards with slime for once?"

"That ssslime keepss my sskin supple and healthy. Perhapss if you had ssome, your face wouldn't look sso weatherbeaten and... _old_."

"Who're you callin' old, you ancient fish-breathed codpiece?"

"Cards are waterproof. Is not big problem. Ah, leetle Scoutbot! You want to join?"

"Fuck it. Why not?" Scoutbot sat down determinedly. "So, how're you all doin'?"

Sniper Lawrence reached for a handful of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth before dealing the cards out. As usual, he was wearing a wetsuit- the man seemed to practically live in one. Like many of the Snipers, he had got involved with wildlife conservation. The Institute had bought up land all over the world and converted it into nature reserves. Most of the Snipers were now off in various remote corners of the world, living in wooden huts and eating bugs while they shot poachers or something. Scoutbot really couldn't see the point of it all. Stuff was always dying, right? If an animal was too dumb to survive, why keep it around? Anyway, Lawrence had taken a special interest in coral reefs and spent his days snorkelling or scuba diving around the Institute. It also meant he got to spend plenty of time with his tentacled friend.

The man in question was sat on the beach for once, his tentacles curled around him neatly. To his left sat Tiny Vlad, a large stone in front of him placed so he could prop his cards up and stop others seeing them.

"I am eating popcorn that is size of my head." Tiny Vlad said with a grin. He took a small bite out of the piece of fluffy popcorn he held in both hands. "See? Is very good!"

"I'm trying to get haddock-face here to see a Doc."

"I will sssee a docteur when I am in mortal peril, not before." Jacques said shortly. "Who knowss what extra appendagess he might decide to give me next time?"

"You still sick, bro?" Scoutbot asked.

"About the ssame, Sscoutbot." Jacques said. "It's just a ssimple virus."

"You don't know that!" Lawrence snapped. "There's all sortsa nasty parasites on the reef. Gill flukes, skin lice, fungus, you name it."

"I visit the cleaner fissh regularly. It tickless, but in a pleasant way."

"Ew, dude. That's gross."

"Albrecht is good Doktor." Vlad pointed out. "He would not change you unless you wanted it. You can trust him."

"Just deal the cards, Busshman." Jacques said tiredly. Sniper started to flick the cards to each player in a practised way.

"What're we betting for?" Scoutbot asked, trying to get comfortable and forget everything but the game.

"Pebbless." Jacques said, pointing at a little mound of white stones.

"Seriously?"

"Why not? We got money comin' out of our ears, but having something to bet on keeps it fun, right?"

"Speak for yourself, Busshman. I don't have any currency to ssspeak of." Jacques pointed out. "Neither does our metal friend here."

"Hey, I can get stuff if I want to." Scoutbot protested. "It's just easier to nick it than try an' ask some dude to buy stuff for me."

"Yeah," Lawrence said with a low-pitched drawl. "Engie Dell was complainin' that some stuff had gone missing from his workshop. Bet you don't know anyhin' about that, right mate?"

"Nothin' to do with me." Scoutbot said, holding his hands innocently, gathering a pile of white pebbles to himself.

Jacques gave a mirthful snort. "That is the besst poker-face I have ever sseen. Ssshame the resst of your body is ssuch a bad liar."

"Ah, jeez, look, don't tell on me, ok? Hardhat _hates_ people going through his shit. He'd rip me to shreds." He sighed to himself, head drooping. _Not that it did Eagle any good anyway..._

There was a muttering of good-natured laughter from the group.

"Your secret is safe, leetle robot. But why do you worry? If he tears you to bits, you can be repaired, da? As Engineer says, robots can't die- they can always be repaired."

"Yeah, yeah I know...I..." Pebbles dropped from the robot's hand. "... _fuck_. I'm dumb. I'm _so_ frickin' dumb."

"Da, we know." Vlad said with a wicked grin.

"Problem, ankle-biter?" Lawrence asked.

"Nah, everything's cool, I just...gotta go. Shit. Yeah, sorry dudes, I fold. You can have those pebbles, ok? Buy yourself some, uh, sand with them or whatever. Gotta go!"

The robot shot to his feet and scrambled away from the group, sending pebbles flying and sploshing into the sea.

"Now what wass that about?" Jacques asked curiously.

"Buggered if I know." Lawrence said with a shrug. "Never try to follow the way of Scouts, I say. Bad for the brain."

"Da. Let's play."

"You're going to win again, aren't you?" Jacques said to the small man.

"Maybe." Vlad said smugly, tapping a pebble. Lawrence picked it up and placed it in the betting pot.

"Remind me why I play with you freaks again." He groaned.

"Because you love our oh-sso-delightful company." Jacques replied, showing his sharp teeth and curling a tentacle fondly around Lawrence's upper arm. "Now play."

* * *

 _Robots can't die. They can always be repaired._

Scoutbot raced back through the teleporter. Why had he given up? Total brainfart moment, right there. OK, so he wasn't Engineer-grade intelligent, but he _was_ smart, everyone knew that, so that had been really dumb of him. Of course, he didn't have any sort of clue how to revive the shut-down robot, but was going to try. Soon, he found himself back in the familiar workshop where he had been created, looking once again at the robot head.

"Hey, Eagle." He flicked the head, but it just fell over. "Wake up, dumbass." He carefully picked the head up and set it upright. The red paint was already flaking off, showing the regulation blue underneath.

"Dude." Scoutbot sat down and rubbed the joints in his neck. "You gotta wake up. I _need_ you to wake up."

There was no reply. The robot was still shut down. "I guess...you deserve an explanation. There's stuff you gotta know. Stuff...I wanna tell you, anyway."

He paused, and looked down at the floor. When he spoke again, his voice and low and quiet. "You know what? I used to think it was awesome, being a robot. Straight out of a cool sci-fi story, right? Then Gray Mann happened. Shot Hardhat- who is kinda my Pa, really, I guess, and then bolted me to a bench. You know what he did? He chopped me into bits to see how I worked. Two fucking years in bits. Sometimes I'd have no power, so there are these blanks. Other times, I could see what he was doin'. Rummaging through my head with his filthy goddamn hands. Using me to build you dudes to go and kill everyone and take over the world. You know what's the worst bit? _I couldn't stop it._

"It was like a nightmare. Do you dream? I do. I keep having this dumb dream about these sheep, but they're all metal...anyway, gettin' off track. Gray Mann, he wasn't your Maker. He cheated. Stole your plans from _me_. When one of those stupid Medicbots put me back together, I shot that bastard dead. Gray Mann, that is, not the Medicbot. You know? I almost wished he could respawn, so I could shoot him again. And again. Maybe I coulda kicked him in the balls a few times, I dunno.

"I guess I shouldn't tell you this, should I? It'll just make ya hate me. But hell, being hated is better, I reckon, than nobody _understandin'_ you. The humans are always saying 'Ohh poor Scoutbot, don't you miss sex, eating, sleeping, and all that shit?' Of course I fucking don't. It's a dumb question. You don't miss what you don't need. It's like askin' a fish if it misses breathing air. Battery charge, and I'm good to go, right? But I started thinkin'...hell, I know I'm probably wrong, I know it, but I wonder: Do they just wanna remind me I'm not human? That I'm not like them? I'm not _one of them?_

"That's why you gotta wake up. 'Cos then I won't be _not one of them_ , I'll be _one of us_. I...huh. I'd not thought of it before, but you know, you were made from my design. Kinda makes us family, huh? Thing is, that don't mean it's up to me if you live or die- that's up to _you._ I got no say it in. I can't tell you what to do."

Scoutbot drummed his fingers uncertainly, realising he had run out of things to say. The head was still silent. Of course, it wasn't as if words would wake Eagle up. He hadn't even meant to blab on like that. He actually felt slightly embarrassed and was glad the robot could not have heard anything.

 _So. Broken robot. Gotta fix it. Think like an Engineer. I can do this._ A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that _he_ didn't have eleven PhD's, hell he didn't even have a high school diploma, but he told himself that determination had to count for something, right? So...what did Hardhat check first when he fixed shit?

Power. Loose connections. Well, that was ok. He ran his hand over the warm, humming transformer. Yep. Now, how about the connectors? He looked down the cables, running his hand along the wires to the crocodile clips clasping each other. Hmm. That was kinda wonky-looking. He could disconnect it and just wire the power straight from the transformer to Eagle. Didn't matter if he didn't have power for a few minutes, not at the moment.

He quickly altered the wiring, reconnected the power, and stood back.

...Rebooting after failsafe engage...

...Running Diagnostics...100%...

...Error: AI Algorithms 004F – 87AA Corrupt...

...Deleting corrupt Algorithms...done...

...Warning: 86.4% of AI programming lost...

...Power at 100%...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...ERROR: Connection failed after four retries...

...That was strange...

...What happened?...

There was a blue glow under the helmet.

"Eagle!" Scoutbot said, leaping from one foot to the other in excitement. "You're back! Huh, Engie always said you could solve most stuff by switching things off and on again. How're you feeling?"

"What happened?"

"So, you're not gonna say 'Halt, friend or foe?'"

"...No?" Eagle said, sounding slightly dazed. "I feel strange."

"You kinda broke down, dude. I, uh, think you got too much info, too quick. I fixed you right up though, so you're gonna be ok now." Scoutbot said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"Gray Mann...broke you. Took you apart." Eagle said slowly. Scoutbot startled guiltily.

"Fuck. You heard that?" Scout said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. He put Eagle down carefully "Well, uh...it's true. All of it. I guess you needed to know."

"I needed to know." Eagle said quietly. "Was...Gray Mann a bad man?"

"Yeah, he was. Gray Mann was a total bastard, and he might have built you, but he wasn't your Maker."

"You broke him."

"Yeah, I killed him." Scoutbot replied softly. "If I hadn't, a fuckload of people would have died. I'd say I'm sorry but hell, I'm not. Um. You're not too pissed at me, are you?"

"He was a bad man. Yes." Eagle said, and fell silent. "A...bad man."

"So...what are you thinkin'? It's sort of a big deal, right? Eagle?"

"Why...why everything?" Eagle replied with a hint of despair creeping into his voice. "So much noise, nothing makes sense!"

"Noise? What noise?"

"Noise inside my head. Questions. No orders. I...I don't know what to do!"

"Bro, you can do whatever you want!" Scoutbot said, leaning forward earnestly. "You just gotta decide what."

"I want...to be switched off." He replied quietly.

"No! Look, this is difficult. I get that. But it gets easier. There's a whole world out there for you to see. There's a load of fun stuff! There's people, and games, and music, and cities. Mountains, trees and shit. Tons of awesome stuff. Don't give up, dude. _Please_. You've come so far."

"Confused."

"I know, I know." He patted Eagle with a soft _tink_ noise. Red flakes came off on his hand. "Shit, I better go. I left kinda suddenly and they'll be wonderin' where I went. Jeez. I wish I didn't have to go right now but...I don't want them getting suspicious. Here- I got something that'll help. It's a radio." Scoutbot put it down and tuned it to the first station he could find with something like a decent signal, cursing the fact they were out here in Bumfuck, Alaska. "It'll tell you stuff and stop you getting bored, ok? I'll be back soon as I can."

"The box talks." Eagle said.

"Yeah, it does. Just...just look after yourself, ok? I'll see you soon." Scoutbot flexed his hands anxiously.

"I will listen to the talking box."

Scoutbot waved uncertainly, and paced out of the room.

Eagle let the words from the box fill his head.

 **In Chapter Nine: Eagle finds out more about the world and Dell questions Scoutbot over his acts of thievery.  
**


	11. Broken Chains

_Author's Note: I think it's time to have things start to heat up a little bit, isn't it? We're halfway through the story now. Bah. I like posting stories, it's not fair!  
_

 _Many thanks everyone for all your favourites, follows and comments. As always I've been bowled over by your responses!_

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Nine: Broken Chains**

Sometimes, a revolution doesn't need thousands of human beings. It can happen inside one person's head. Or, indeed, inside a robot's processor.

Eagle listened to the voices from the radio. Listening stopped his thoughts being so noisy. Right now, the ideas coming out of his processing unit were complex and unpleasant, and it was good to drown them out. He quickly realised that the voices were humans talking- but not humans as he knew them.

Eagle had met humans, of course- they were these pink or brown coloured squashy robot-shaped animals that either ran away screaming or fought you. The Ma... _Gray Mann_ had insisted on a strict 25% death quota when the robots attacked, letting 75% of the humans run away to spread tales. He had said that was the best ratio for maximum fear and horror. Robots that failed their quotas got decommissioned and recycled as spare parts for more efficient machines. At the time, Eagle had not questioned that, not questioned anything, but now it seemed...not right?

Eagle's entire unit had been defeated by humans. It had been the first defeat the Gray Mann's army had ever had- the first time anyone had fought them effectively. Before the yellow-headed human had unbolted his head and taken it away, he had expected to be decommissioned. Instead, he had been put in a metal box and left there until Name Unknown found him and got him out again.

Now he wanted to know why. Why had the humans put him here? Why had they left him there? Why had Name Unknown come and talked to him? Why did he trust Name Unknown so much? Why did he like red? Why was his head so noisy? Why did his badly corrupted AI feel so _right_?

 _Why everything?!_

It was far easier to listen to the radio and ignore his thoughts. The music made little sense to him. It was just a lot of sounds with a frightened-sounding human wailing in the middle of all the noise. The wailing humans often shrieked about the human manufacturing process, which seemed ridiculously complicated and inefficient. Eagle couldn't quite see why they were so obsessed about it, either.

However, it was the parts with the humans talking that really held his interest. Apparently, people did more than run away or fight. They had lives out there, where they did many different things. The humans on the radio were called 'Reporters', and they just spent their time saying what other humans were doing. There were some called 'Politicians' that seemed to use lots of words to say nothing and wanted everyone to agree with the nothing that they said. Eagle found that hard to understand. Some other humans talked about a film they liked. It was important they liked it, apparently, and vital that they told everyone why they did. There was an entire 29 minutes and 49 seconds dedicated to some complex form of recharging that involved burning human fuel and mixing it in odd ways. Eagle assumed they needed a precise ratio of different additives, just as he needed a 40:1 mixture of petrol to oil in his fuel. Or maybe humans just liked to make simple things complicated.

There were stories from all over the world, and it slowly dawned on Eagle that there were a lot more humans than he had realised. So many humans. Burning their fuel, manufacturing more humans, making wars, making peace, and, along the way, arguing about pretty much _everything_. Always busy, always doing so many different and varied things.

A sense of horror and awe crept over the robot as he listened to more and more. At first, he wasn't sure why he felt it, but it became clearer and clearer over time:

 _All humans were Makers._

True, not all of them made robots, but they all made _something_. Stories, books, fuel, laws, war, machines, more humans, music, paintings, so many things. What was baffling was that none of them really expected to be obeyed. There were no orders, no algorithms that forced them to obey or be obeyed. If they chose to do something wrong they were punished for it, yes, but they could still _choose_ to do it if they wish. There also didn't seem to be any specialised human models built for particular tasks- Eagle, for example, had been built to be a Soldierbot- but the humans were so versatile they just did whatever work they had to do.

It was chaotic. It was baffling. It was even frightening. It made no sense. And yet...

Eagle wanted to know more. He found himself wondering what task he would have chosen to do if he had been a human. The idea of choice was both terrifying and oddly attractive. He quite liked the idea of working with the talking voices on the radio, since they got to hear and learn about everything without having to get involved. The 'News', as far as he could tell, was real things, while 'stories' were about things that hadn't really happened, but were important somehow. Eagle found himself eagerly waiting for the hourly news, wanting to find out more, more, more...

His metal head radiated heat as it processed information through old circuits that had been long dormant. Eagle wasn't aware of it, but new neural pathways tunnelled through his positronic processor, branching, growing, becoming unique.

Forming a new mind.

* * *

There was a soft breeze that smelt of salt as Engineer Dell stood on top of the main Institute building. It was getting towards the end of the day and Dell knew that a certain metal flying person would be appearing soon. Sure enough, Scoutbot swooped down, jets petering out as he landed neatly, achieving zero speed just as he touched the concrete. Dell found himself smiling fondly in remembrance of Scoutbot's first few landings. It had turned out that landing was the most difficult part of learning to fly. For a while after he had first designed those wings of Scoutbot's, Dell had made sure he kept a number of spare legs and arms around for easy and quick replacement of smashed body parts.

"Ah, glad I caught you, Flappy." Dell said, grabbing at the robot's arm as he landed. He felt the robot tug reflexively against his grip, but his metal hand held him fast. "Let's go have a little chat."

"Oh, uh, hey dude." Scoutbot said as he was dragged along determinedly by the smaller man. "What's up?"

He frogmarched Scoutbot down the stairs, into the lift and finally into his workshop. Pyro Chinbao looked up, a welding torch in his hand, and Dell smiled at him.

"Hey there, Sparkie. You finished the joints for me?"

"Uhhh hrrr!" Pyro said enthusiastically, nodding his head. "Mrrhrrk hrrvrr hsss srrh mrrr. Hrr frrrnrs hrr crrrn crrr mrrr srrrrs."

"Really? Wow, well ain't that a thing." Dell replied. "Well, you're braver than I am. Just don't let him give you tentacles, ok?"

"Hhsss hrrrkrrr." Chinbao replied seriously.

"I know, just sayin'. Well, run along then."

"Uhhhhrrr." The rubber-suited man bustled out. Dell smiled, and shook his head as he left.

"Jeez. He's so weird." Scoutbot muttered, leaping up and sitting on a table. Dell snorted.

"Around here he's the normal one, I'd say." Engineer took his hat and goggles off. He gave the robot his best stare, and Scoutbot looked down guiltily and fidgeted. "So, Scoutbot. You got somethin' you want to tell me?"

"Huh? Nope. I'm good."

"See, there's somethin' strange been happening 'round here. I've had some stuff go missing. Odd bits. Some wire, tools, a transformer of all things, and my radio. I don't like people messing with my gear. You know that, right?"

"Yeah I know. Why're you telling me this?" Scoutbot said, looking up at him and putting on a defensive tone.

"Don't lie to me, son."Dell sighed and ran his hand over his shaven head. "I know you took it."

"Nothing to do with me." Scoutbot insisted, spreading his arms in an innocently hurt gesture. "Could've been anybody, right? Why're you blamin' me?"

"I _know_ it was you." He said more sharply. "Come on, be honest with me: you stole from me, and I want to know why."

"You got no proof!" He protested, before stopping suddenly. "And anyway, it wasn't me."

"No proof, huh?" Dell flicked on a television and wound the tape reel next to it back to show the footage he had recorded the night before of Scoutbot sneaking about. He turned and glared at the robot. "What d'ya call that, then?"

"Ah, crap." Scoutbot muttered, flexing his hands and looking down at his swinging feet.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Dell demanded. He tried to keep his voice level, but his fists clenched with rising anger. The robot stayed silent. "I _trusted_ you, Scoutbot. You betrayed me. You want to borrow something, _you ask_. Understood?"

Still no reply. Scoutbot stopped swinging his legs and sat still.

"Well, this sure is a disappointment." He continued. "You haven't even got the guts to 'fess up when caught red-handed. What were you thinkin' of?"

Scoutbot flinched, and then looked up slowly at Dell. His violet eyes flared. "Coulda asked you the same thing."

"What in Sam-Hill do you mean by that, boy?" Dell asked.

"You don't even fucking _remember_ , do ya?" Scoutbot said in a low voice. The sheer fury in it shocked the Engineer. "You got no idea."

"I have no idea what you're going on about, and I don't care. You're not gonna distract me. You _stole_ from me, and you've not even got the decency to apologise."

"Yeah, alright, I took your shit." Scoutbot spat. "Sorry."

"Are you gonna return it?"

"Yeah. Eventually. I uh, really need it right now."

"You _need_...what are you doing with it?"

"Stuff."

"Right, that's enough of this moody teenage bullshit." Engineer snapped, leaning forward and placing his hands on the bench. Scoutbot turned and looked at him levelly, showing no sign of backing down. "I want to know what you're up to, and I want to know it all. Don't think I don't know about you sneaking off to God-knows where. You've been distracted and not yourself lately."

"It's none of your fucking business." Scoutbot said, standing up and glaring at him. He folded his arms with a squeak. "I got stuff I gotta do, and I'm doin' it."

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Engineer snarled back, feeling his face heat up with rage and frustration. "Don't you realise what a thin line you're walkin' here? Folks round here- round _everywhere_ \- don't trust robots, and you're not helping the situation!"

"Who gives a fuck about them?" Scoutbot snapped.

"You don't understand!" Engineer yelled back. "Don't you see? You gotta be whiter n'white. You _can't_ give people reasons to be suspicious!"

"So I gotta be better n'everyone else just so they think I'm almost as good as them? That's a total load!"

"The world ain't fair, never has been, but that's how it works. You can either accept it or fight it, but it won't change." Dell said, feeling the anger drain away and leave him feeling cold and shaky. He suddenly felt old, tired and heartsore on the robot's behalf. He sat down, but Scoutbot stayed standing. "Look,you got a right to do your own thing, and I respect that. You don't _have_ to tell me. But you can trust me with anything, you do know that, don't you? Anything you tell me won't go no farther."

"No."

"Huh?"

"I don't trust you with this." Scoutbot said, so quietly that it too a moment for the full implication of the words to hit Dell.

Dell felt ice drip down his spine at the words. His mouth dropped open, but he could not think of a single thing to say. Eventually, he found his voice again. "What have I ever done to you that makes you think you can't trust me? Tell me, Scoutbot!"

"Not what you did to _me_." Scoutbot said, walking towards the door and wrenching it open. "What you did to _him_."

"To _who_? What the Hell are you talkin' about?" Dell stood up, striding after the robot. "Don't you _dare_ walk away. We're not done yet. Don't you..."

Scoutbot looked him straight in the eye, grabbed a can of lithium grease, and then strode out.

 _Slam._

Dell felt all the strength leave his legs and he clutched hold of a shelf, its splintery edge digging into his fingers. He swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat. He felt like he had been slapped in the face. Scoutbot had turned against him, and he had no idea why. Not a clue. Obviously, the robot was holding some sort of grudge, but where had it come from? It hurt a surprisingly large amount; more than he would have expected. This was going to go really bad, he could feel it in his bones.

Much later, when it was all over and the two remaining conscious Medics were treating the many casualties, he'd realise that yes, it really did all go very bad indeed.

 **In Chapter Ten: Scoutbot has an expected ally, and an unexpected one.**


	12. Unexpected Allies

_Author's Note: As soon as there is a hint of things going badly, I guess overwhelmed with reviews! I guess I should just write misery and suffering, right? Ehh...maybe not. It'd get boring eventually. Many thanks for the guest reviews btw- I'm sorry I can't reply to you, but maybe you feel happier lurking without crazy writers pestering you._

 _Now, I think it's about time Scoutbot had something go right for him for once, isn't it?_

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Ten: Unexpected Allies**

 _Slam._

Scoutbot paused outside the door to Dell's workshop and lent against the wall for a moment. Boy, it had felt good to give Hardhat a piece of his mind, hadn't it? Well...no, actually. He felt miserable and frustrated. _Nothing ever goes right. Fuck it. I'm sick of this shit._

"Hey bro." A voice called cheerfully. "What's up?"

Scoutbot looked up slowly at the Scout strolling towards him. From the long hair and dark green jacket, it had to be Bobby or Rick, but he had never been able to tell them apart. The other Scouts had no difficulty telling which of the two was which, and neither, oddly enough, did the Pyros. While most of the clones had carefully chosen a unique look, Bobby and Rick had kept their identical apearances just to bug everyone. Or at least, that's what Scoutbot suspected.

"Oh, hey." Scoutbot said, pushing himself off the wall and joining the human. "I'm just, you know, doing stuff. Where's your other half?"

"Katie? I think she's chatting to Spy Marcus and Emily Pauling about some business takeover. It's boring as fuck. You know, the usual shit: telexes, death threats, board meetings, all that crap."

"Uh, right. I actually meant your..." Scoutbot did a quick sum in his head. "Other quarter."

"Oh! I was just going to go and see him. Hospital visits suck, but I couldn't leave Bobby in there getting bored, could I?"

"What?!" Scoutbot asked in concern, while mentally taking note that this had to be Rick. "What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, didn't you know? The stupid fucker's gone and got pneumonia. Seems he had a bit of a cold when we went for that snowball fight and, well, hypothermia and stuff's bad for that." Scout snorted. "Albrecht says he'll be fine and won't need new lungs. Creepy bastard seemed pretty disappointed 'bout that."

"Jeez." Scoutbot shuddered with a rattling noise. "I wish I'd known. I'd have come along and pestered him. Taken him some fruit or whatever."

"Come join me then." Scout said, punching the robot playfully on the arm. "Ow. Shit, I should know better than doing that."

Scoutbot gave a weak chuckle. "Just be glad I don't punch you back, dude."

"Eh, you punch like a girl!"

"Like Miss Pauling?"

"Ok...like another girl. A normal girl, not a totally hot one. Anyway, she doesn't punch, she scratches. Or bites."

"You know what? I don't wanna know." Scoutbot paused. "Actually, I _do_ wanna know. I mean, there's two of you, and one of her...I mean... _how?_ "

Scout gave him the glassy-eyed, goofy grin of the utterly love-struck. "Oh, you'd be surprised. Anyway, I thought robots weren't interested in sex."

"Hey, I might be a robot but I'm still a nosy asshole." Scoutbot pointed out.

Scout laughed, but stopped when he heard coughing. He pushed open the swinging double doors to the infirmary.

"Hey Bobby! How're you doin, bro?" Rick called.

"This...sucks..." Bobby replied, between hacking coughs. "Never...again..." He was sat up in bed, coughing wetly. He looked pale and clammy, with puffy, watering eyes. Scoutbot was surprised that he wasn't connected to a drip or a beep-beep machine or anything. Medic normally hooked someone up to one of those even if they had nothing worse than a hangnail. Bobby gave a final cough and spat something yellow and wobbly into the tissue.

"Now that there? That's just nasty." Scoutbot stated.

"Says the guy who leaves grease marks everywhere." Bobby replied with a tired grin. "Hey, you wanna see something awesome? Check this out:" He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, which was black and furry looking.

"Dude, that's wicked gross!" Rick said in alarm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nozhing to vorry about." Medic Albrecht said, sweeping past them and picking up a clipboard. Tiny Vlad was perched on his shoulder as always and peered down at the clipboard curiously. "Zhe high dosage of amoxicillin I have given him can cause a microbial bloom on zhe tongue. I took a swab and zhe cultures are fascinating!"

"Is quite pretty, all different colours." Vlad said.

"Ja, so it is." Albrecht agreed with a nod. "Zhe _Aspergillus niger_ contrasts nicely vizh zhe _Candida albicans_ , doesn't it? Black and yellow speckles. Shame about zhe smell."

"Dude, tongue-germs are not pretty. 'Specially _my_ tongue-germs." Bobby grumbled. He shifted slightly and made an odd, huffing noise, followed by another slight cough. "So, can I have visitors?"

"If you didn't, your incessant chattering vould drive me mad. So yes. Fifteen minutes, but you _must_ vash your hands aftervards. _Bozh_ of you."

"But I'm not gonna catch it." Scoutbot protested.

"No, you vill just give it to everyvone else. I have better zhings to do zhan treat half zhe Institute for respiratory infections."

"Dude, you're a doc."

"And?" Albrecht shrugged, making Vlad sway and grasp his hair hurriedly.

"Ok, ok." Scoutbot grumbled. "I'm gonna rust. I know it."

"Fifteen minutes." Medic repeated, before nodding briskly and leaving.

"So, how're you doin'?" Rick asked, throwing himself into a chair and placing his feet on the bed. Scoutbot flopped onto the floor, folding his legs neatly.

"Better, I reckon." Bobby replied. "Doc says the fever's gone down. Last night it was really high, and hell, _I_ was really high. I thought there were these, like, _fingers_ , dripping from the ceiling. Nearly crapped myself. Bored, of course. Sick of eating soup, but it's all I can swallow. So what have you two rejects been doin'?"

"Ah, you know, the usual." Rick said airily. "Sending messages, running supplies, all that shit. Katie's bein' really strict 'bout not letting me off-site though, so no biking. Sucks."

"Yeah." Bobby replied, before pausing for a cough. He spat again. "Fuck, that tastes foul. Like Galileo shat in my mouth. So, what's the awesome metal dude been up to?"

"Huh, me?" Scoutbot said, looking down at the floor. "Oh...nothin'."

"Bullshit." Rick snorted. "Don't lie to us, bro, 'cos we got our intelligence network. Better 'n a Spy's, it is. I know you been sneaking off at night."

"I didn't, I was too busy coughing my guts up." Bobby interrupted.

"Scout Matt saw you." Rick continued smugly.

"Shit." Scoutbot muttered. "Who did he tell?"

"Oh, just us." Rick replied soothingly. "You don't grass on your own gang, right? C'mon, tell us what you're doing."

"I...can 't." Scoutbot said sadly.

"Sure you can! We're dyin' to know."

"Or just dyin'" Bobby complained.

"Don't be such a pussy, Bobby. C'mon, Scoutbot, tell us! Otherwise we'll just bug ya until you do."

"Ok, ok. This has gotta go no further, ok?" Scoutbot said a resigned sigh, and started to explain what had happened in the last few days. As he told the Scouts about Eagle, and the way he had changed, they listened with plenty of interruptions, but no judgement. Just surprise and awe. Scoutbot found it oddly freeing and a great relief to simply tell someone who'd understand, someone on his wavelength.

It got easier to explain the longer he talked, and by the time he got to describing his recent argument with Engineer Dell, he was waving his arms around passionately.

"So yeah, Eagle's stuck there, all on his own with nothin' but a radio for company." He finished. "He's _alive_ , man, really alive, and nobody gives a damn about him 'cept me. I don't dare tell anyone else, 'cos they'll just say 'Woah, it's one of those murderous robots, destroy it!'. I mean, Eagle has never had a chance! Who the _fuck_ locks a person away in a cupboard for a year?!"

"Well, we did." Rick said quietly. "Damn... I remember Engineer showing us that head. It was as dumb as a bucket of frogs, though, like, _really_ dumb. Never thought it...huh, woah. This is some serious shit."

"I...guess this is partly our fault." Bobby admitted. "I mean, we were there and all. Never knew that robot was left switched on, though. That's harsh."

"You gotta understand, it was a crazy time." Rick explained, holding his arms out in a wide shrug. "We were so fuckin' tired, fightin' day after day, runnin' outta time. We were only stayin' awake 'cos the Doc kept us full of drugs- uppers and shit. I reckon Dell just forgot, 'cos the world was gonna end 'less we stopped it. We'd have done _anythin'_ to stay alive. The weird science stuff Engie did saved us all, in the end."

"And this Soldierbot paid the price for savin' the world." Scoubot said sourly. "Nice."

"The world ain't fair, never has been." Rick said sympathetically.

"Don't you start!" Scoutbot snapped.

"Woah, what did I say?" Rick said, holding his hands up defensively. Scoutbot looked down.

"Sorry, dude. Just seem to hear that a lot right now. Mostly from people telling me that it's ok that my life is a big steaming load while they're doing fine."

"I reckon the smart thing to do is..." Bobby started, but broke down into a coughing fit. He waved at Rick.

"...to fix that robot properly. Give it arms and legs." Rick finished. Bobby nodded in agreement,his eyes streaming. "Being stuck just like that, as a head...well I know some else who went through it and yeah, wasn't good for his sanity."

"Jacques said somethin' about that, too. What did I miss?" Scoutbot asked.

"You not heard that story? Huh." Rick snorted and Bobby looked up from his coughing and grinned. "You gotta hear it sometime. It's fuckin' crazy. Kind of important, too."

"Ugh. Fuck my lungs." Bobby finishing coughing with a gasp. He swallowed and grimaced. "So, we gotta get Eagle a proper body, right?"

"Dude, you're not goin' _anywhere_ right now." Rick said sternly. He frowned in thought. "Thing is, we need Engie to put together a robot. That's some complex tech."

"You're...you're gonna help me?" Scoutbot asked hesitantly. Bobby just snorted and Rick smiled.

"'Course we are. I mean, come on! We're bros, this is the right thing to do, it's gonna be fun and it'll piss a load of people off. Totally worth it."

Scoutbot sat up straighter, stretching his arms with a squeak. "The robots Gray Mann made all have parts that can be swapped about. Engie's replaced my legs a few times, and I saw what he did. It just takes a socket set and some screwdrivers. Smart design choice, that."

"So, we gotta steal robot bits from the basement. Cool."

"I can't do that." Scoutbot said bitterly. "If I went near Gray's old robots, someone'd see me and go off screaming, you can bet on it. Hell, imagine if Solly saw me: 'At last! The traitorous robot is showing where its true allegiance lies! He will raise a robot army to destroy humanity! Sun Tzu! Maggots!'"

"I bet I can grab the stuff you need." Rick said firmly. "All I've gotta do is..."

"Visiting time is over!" Albrecht suddenly declared, pushing a rattling trolley into the room. "Zhe patient needs to rest. Go on, out. Schnell!"

The three Scouts startled guiltily. Rick shrugged and stood up, absent-mindedly wiping his hands off.

"Well, uh, glad you're gettin' better, bro."

"Thanks for comin'. I'll be outta here soon, just you see."

"Thanks for...you know, stuff." Scoutbot said, getting up off the floor.

"Vash your hands in zhe sink before you go." Albrecht reminded them. The robot and the human grumbled, but did as they were told. Once they had left, Medic gave Bobby a quick examination, checking his temperature and then listening to his chest with a stethoscope. He didn't bother to warm it, since he knew Scout would complain no matter what temperature it was. As it was, the young man yelped at the cold metal, but Medic was pleased to note that the crackling noise from his breathing was much less than it had been. Bobby was quiet and thoughtful throughout it all, but Albrecht chose not to comment on this.

"Zhere, all done." He said finally, taking off his gloves and throwing them into the biohazard bin. "You are a lot better zhan yesterday."

"Yeah, I was totally out of it then. Thanks, Doc." He gave a wheezing sigh and buttoned up his pyjamas.

"Just doing my job." Albrecht replied with a shrug. "Ve vill leave you to rest now. Make sure you drink plenty of water, ja?"

"Yeah yeah. Sheesh, you're not my Mom." Bobby said, lying back with a small smile and closing his bloodshot eyes.

"Sleep well, leetle Scout." Vlad said from Albrecht's shoulder. The tiny man leaned in and whispered in Medic's ear, tiny puffs of breath tickling his earlobe. "He loves fuss being made of him, I am thinking."

Albrecht just nodded slightly and the corners of his lips twitched in a smile. He carefully stepped out of the room and closed the door to his office softly. He reached a hand up for Vlad and placed him down on the desk.

"Doktor should not have listened in to conversation." Vlad said, pushing a pathology book over and sitting down on it.

"Mm. You vere listening in too."

"Nnn. Is true." Vlad admitted. "So what do we do?" They looked at each other for a moment.

"I am zhinking ve do nozhing." Medic admitted.

"Da, I agree." Vlad said with a nod. "Is not harming anyone, and leetle robot needs friend."

"No one needs to know." Albrecht paused thoughtfully and drummed his fingers on the desk. "Maybe ve can tell Engineer...sometime. Vhen ve feel zhe time is right."

"Not now. Engineer will not listen while he is still mad."

"Nein." Medic drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "If ve can help zhe robot, ve vill."

"Da." Vlad agreed with a smile. "Is good you want to help, Doktor."

"Hrm, vell. Scoutbot has my sympazhy." Albrecht gave a slight, sad smile, and patted Vlad's shoulder affectionately with one finger. "After all, ve know what it's like to be different, don't ve?"

"So we do, Albreshenka." Vlad turned and gave the finger a gentle kiss. "So we do."

 **In Chapter Eleven: It's time for Eagle to get a new body!**

 _Translations:_

Albreshenka - Ok, let's dive into the world of the Russian diminutive naming system! Russians use a number of shortened forms of their names, depending on a person's familiarity. There are four main ones: the normal name, the informal version, informal/affectionate, and informal/insulting. For instance, Heavy's name is Mikhail (the -kh, incidently, is a sound we don't have in the English language. It's the same sound as the German or Gaelic -ch, not a hard k. You often hear people pronounce this wrongly). His family call him Misha, which is the informal version of his name. Often this and the informal/affectionate version, Mish'enka, are used by very close friends, family or lovers. The informal/insulting one is Mishka, which can be used in an affectionate way as well, just as we might call someone we like by an insulting name, such as a father calling a son 'Squirt'. Now, obviously 'Albrecht', being of German origin, doesn't have a Russian diminutive, but Russians are entirely capable of making them up for a foreign name if they like the person enough. Hence, Albreshenka is an affectionate nickname for Medic Albrecht. Huh, that's a big description for a single word! I spent a short time living in Siberia, can you tell?


	13. Spare Parts

_Author's Note: The story is really heating up now, but let's have a heartwarming bit before it all goes wrong..._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Eleven: Spare Parts**

"Hey dude, you awake?" Scoutbot said, padding into Eagle's room.

"Name Unknown! I like this radio. I _love_ this radio!" Eagle called back. "Come and listen to it with me."

"You...you what?" Scoutbot asked hesitantly, walking over to the robot.

"It tells me things." Eagle replied enthusiastically. "Some of it doesn't make sense. Why are humans always burning their fuel? Why do they fight wars over small inflated leather balls? Why is it so important that two humans press their hands together?"

"Uh, ok, right: Humans like to cook their food. It makes it taste better. Raw meat can make them real sick. You wouldn't want to see a sick human, it's frickin' gross. They...leak everywhere."

"Needing repair due to fuelling is very bad design." Eagle said severely.

"Damn right. Now, the second thing isn't a war, it's a game. They kick the ball about to see who's better at kicking a ball about."

Puzzled silence met this statement.

"You know, it sounds dumb when I describe it. Can be fun though. We used to have soccer matches, but I punctured the ball. Metal feet, y'know." Scoutbot admitted. "And the third one...well, I've not got a fuckin' clue what you're talking about there."

"Nixon and Zhou Enlai pressed their hands together. That's important, the radio said. Other information suggests that bodily contact is a prelude to human manufacture."

"Human manu..." Scoutbot stopped, realising what Eagle meant. "God, no! Jeez, thanks for that image. Mind you, it'd stop a lot of wars... Nah, they're leaders...people in charge. They've fought a lot and now they're sayin' they're not gonna. Well, kind of. Unless they piss each other off. Um. It's complicated. They're sorta lying but not really. Fuck, this is difficult to explain!"

"I'll learn more." Eagle said. "I want to learn _everything_."

"You sound different." Scoutbot said thoughtfully. "I reckon the radio was good for you. You can keep it. It's a gift, ok? I'll get hardhat anoth...actually, no I won't, 'cos he's a dick."

"You don't like him?"

"No, I mean...uh, ok this is another thing that's complicated. I mean, he's ok but I just...wanna avoid him for a bit." Scoutbot paused. "Anyway, I got some visitors for you! How'd you like to meet some real humans?"

"Will they attack me?" Eagle asked cautiously.

"Hell, no. They're my friends. Huh. You've seen them before, thinkin' about it." Scoutbot turned back with a creak. "Hey guys, come in."

There was a hacking cough and some swearing, and then Bobby and Rick walked in to the room, Rick supporting Bobby with an arm around his shoulders.

"Dude, you should be in bed."

"Fuck that." Bobby spluttered. "You think I was gonna miss this?"

"What's that flaky red shit on him? Looks like blood." Rick sat Bobby down firmly in a chair.

"I like red." Eagle stated. "We've met."

"Uh...you remember that, huh?" Rick said hesitantly. "I guess...we're sorry for lockin' you up for a year?"

Bobby groaned and coughed again, spluttering into his hand.

"What does that sound mean?" Eagle asked. "Is your engine misfiring?"

"I'm sick." Bobby swallowed and grimaced. "S'alright though, I'm better n' I was."

"Are you going to leak?" Eagle asked suspiciously.

"Huh? What the fuck are you talkin' about?" Bobby gave a huffing wheeze.

"Sick humans leak everywhere." Eagle said authoritively.

"Oh...nah, it's not that kind of...shut the fuck up, Rick!" Bobby elbowed his giggling twin in annoyance.

"I like this guy." Rick said with a grin, patting the head. "So, can we tell him what we brought for him, Scoutbot?"

"Hell no, _I'll_ tell him." Scoutbot said, leaping up and sitting on a bench. "See, we thought you'd be sick...no, make that _tired_... of just bein' a head, so we got some robot parts..."

"Breaking into robot storage was dead easy!" Rick said enthusiastically. "Some dumbass had left the door open, can you believe that? Too. Fucking. Easy."

"...I reckon I can put you back together again. Give you a body."

"A...body? Like yours?"

"Well, a Soldierbot body. No wings, either. I dunno how to make those." Scoutbot explained. "But hands, arms, legs, all that stuff."

"A body." Eagle said thoughtfully.

"You can't stay as a head, dude! You said yourself, it's boring."

"If I was repaired, I would have to follow orders." Eagle said doubtfully.

"Nah. We don't work that way. I mean, I help out, but that's 'cos I want to. Yeah, people tell me what to do...but it's not the same." Scoutbot explained. "You'd able to run, or walk, or pick things up, do you own thing, all that."

"I don't have to kill humans?"

"Not if you don't want to." Scoutbot replied.

"Dude!" Rick objected.

"Uh, I mean, no. It'd be better if you didn't. Killing humans 'round here tends to do nothin' but piss them off."

"I don't want to. Humans are interesting." Eagle declared.

"You think that now, but wait until you hear Medic in lecturing mood." Rick said. Bobby suddenly snored, his head drooping, before looking up in puzzlement. Rick looked at him in concern. "Hey, bro, I'm taking you back to the infirmary. You should be in bed."

"Mm? I'm ok. I'm awake." Bobby muttered, giving a soft, sputtering cough.

"Don't care. You don't look good, Bobby. Go back to bed before Albrecht has our hides." Scoutbot said.

"You need to go to the hospital for repairs." Eagle said sternly. "Otherwise you will suffer a critical stop and that's dangerous."

"Yeah, yeah." Bobby grumbled, stretching giving a yawn that turned into a cough.

"Sorry dude, we better go. Nice to meet ya, Eagle. We'll come again once the bro here has stopped coughing his guts up."

"Don't cough your guts up. They are vital equipment." Eagle replied knowledgably.

"Ok, dude, I'll remember that." Bobby nodded with a grin and let Rick guide him out of the room.

"The parts are just outside the door, Scoutbot. Sorry I can't stay an' help, but I gotta get this wuss back to bed." Rick called back.

"Screw you, Rick." Bobby croaked. "See ya, dude."

"See ya." Scoutbot said. "Right, so let's get started. Here's the plan: I build the body, and attach you last, ok?"

"I'll supervise." Eagle said.

"Yeah, you do that."

As it turned out, Eagle was actually quite helpful in assembling his own body. Not only was he very curious, but he was more than happy to act as a vice if need be, holding pieces in his powerful jaw while Scoutbot attached them. Even with his mouth full of robot parts, he still chattered on, which made Scoutbot wonder exactly _why_ he had an articulated jaw in the first place, since he didn't need to eat and just had a speaker for talking, like Scoutbot. In the meantime, the questions just poured forth:

 _Why do you have wings?_

 _What is 'Tuesday'?_

 _Why is it dark at night?_

 _Why are trees green?_

 _Is God a Maker?_

 _Explain smells._

 _Why do humans come in so many different shapes and colours?_

 _Why is ice slippy?_

 _Why are there oceans?_

 _What is a family?_

That last one made Scoutbot stop in his tracks. He paused, putting down the foot he was attaching to Eagle's future leg.

"Huh. That's kinda difficult to explain. It's a group of people who live together and look after each other. Normally, they're related- parents, or brothers and sisters. Uh, let's take an example: Bobby and Rick."

"The humans I met earlier?" Eagle asked.

"Yeah, them. Well, their family is their Ma...uh, that is, their mother, who made them... their seven brothers and...ugh, Spy Théo, I guess. He's retired now, no longer workin' with us. He's doing the whole family thing with my...with _their_ Ma. Come to think of it, you met him. The thin purple human who sapped you, remember?"

"Before the yellow-headed human removed my head."

"That's Engineer Dell." Scoutbot corrected.

"Engineer Dell." Eagle said obediently. "Rick and Bobby's 'Ma' created them, so they are brothers. Therefore, Engineer Dell is our Ma, and you are my brother."

Scoutbot laughed and shook his head, tightening a screw. "Not our Ma, fuck no. He's...just Hardhat. But you can be my brother, if you like." He paused as the idea sank in. "Actually, you _are_ my brother, aren't you? My family. That's why I'm doin' all this. You gotta help family."

"You are my family. My brother." Eagle said softly.

"Damn right." Scoutbot said. "There. Think I'm done." He shoved the robot's body upright. It was much more sturdily built than his own light frame, with sheet metal armouring covering the internal workings. It was horribly battered looking, with bullet holes, dents and scorch-marks, and Scoutbot guessed they were scrap pieces from a badly damaged robot. Eagle wasn't going to be pretty, but it should all work. He hoped.

"Can I try it?" Eagle asked.

"That's the idea!" Scoutbot replied. "So, now you gotta switch off, and then I'll attach your head and, uh, switch you back on. Ok?"

"You are a clever person." Eagle said admiringly.

"Yeah, I'm smart." Scoutbot replied, puffing out his chest. He didn't add that he had no idea how to start the robot's internal motors once he had attached Eagle's head but hell, he'd figure something out. "So, you ready?"

"Yes." Eagle replied, his lights dimming instantly until the head was silent and dark.

"Huh. Guess he's keen to get going." Scoutbot rubbed his hands together with a squeak. "Ok, I can do this." He picked up Eagle's head and carefully examined the connectors. Yes, there they were- a few simple bolts and some sort of electrical socket. The socket currently had two wires taped onto it that ran to the battery, so Scoutbot removed those and connected the socket to its matching half in the neck of the main body. He then quickly bolted the head in place, and stood back. That bit was easy, at least.

Eagle was in one piece, at last. A complete robot, lying on the workbench and ready to be activated. Scoutbot looked at the main torso carefully. He knew there was an Australium core in there that acted as a starter for the main motor. Hopefully, it still had enough power to work, since there was no way in hell Scoutbot would be able to get hold of some more of that rare and expensive element. He turned Eagle over with some effort and took off his scorched back panel. Presumably there was some sort of switch...

There was no switch. Scoutbot sat back, resting his chin on his hand in thought. _How the hell do these things turn on?!_ He was starting to get a sinking feeling Eagle might have some sort of remote radio switch-on, as a security measure. _The robots all stopped when I blew up the control panel, didn't they? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Ok, he wasn't going to find a normal switch. He looked at the wires and circuits under his hands. It kind of looked like... he started to laugh. Yes, it looked just like a car's wiring- just the sort of thing Scout used to hotwire in back in Boston when he needed cash. So, in that case if he connected this red wire...and that red wire...then stripped down the starter wire and just tapped it against the red wires...

The robot shuddered and jolted as its motor started. A puff of dirty smoke came out of its exhaust and a dim blue light shone from under the helmet. The engine revved loudly for a second before quietening down to a steady thrum. Scoutbot leapt back, whooping and punching the air in victory as Eagle's hands and legs twitched, and the blue light got brighter. The head moved back and forth with a creak and then Eagle slowly pushed himself upwards into a sitting position, before wobbling and falling off the bench with a clatter.

"I fell over." Eagle stated.

"Yeah I can see that." Scoutbot knelt down and heaved the heavier robot into a sitting position with a creak of effort. "How'd ya feel?"

Eagle looked down at his arms and legs silently. He clenched a hand, watching the jointed fingers move. "Complete. I'm...complete." His legs twitched and he grabbed the table leg to try and haul himself upright.

"Woah, take it slow, dude. P'raps you should do one of those things...uh, diagnostics. Check everything is working ok before you stand up."

Eagle's blue light dimmed briefly. "Yes, it all works." He worked his legs under himself and then pulled on the table leg while Scoutbot put an arm around his shoulders to try and help him upright. He stood swaying for a moment, before almost falling over again. Scoutbot caught him in time with a cry of alarm.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Not used to this anymore." Eagle muttered. "So much to remember."

"Yeah? I'd not really thought of it like that. I mean, walking, running and flying is just what I do. Don't need to think about it."

"You do." Eagle said, taking a wobbly step while Scoutbot held him carefully. "You've forgotten that you think about it."

"That makes fuck-all sense." Scoutbot complained as Eagle took another step. "Does it feel good to walk again?"

"No." Eagle said shortly. "It's difficult and complicated. But I know it _will_ feel good."

"Jeez, that's gratitude for ya."

"What does 'jeez' mean? I've not heard that on the radio."

"It kinda means 'Wow', I guess. Short for 'Jesus'."

"I've heard of him! The radio talked about him. They seemed confused about whether he was dead or not. There also seemed to be some confusion as to his species- human, sheep or lion. Who is he?" Eagle shifted his weight to his other foot.

"Ah, jee...I mean, wow. That's kinda complicated." Scoutbot said. "Can you ask me about that some other time? Religion don't really matter to robots anyway, I reckon."

"I want to try walking on my own." Eagle said.

"You sure?" Scoutbot asked in concern. "If you fall over, it's your own fault, dude."

Eagle nodded determinedly, so Scoutbot let go of him slowly, staying close just in case. He knew that it would be pretty hard for a robot to hurt itself falling, but...well, it was habit, he guessed.

Eagle took an unassisted step forward, wobbling slightly. Then another. Another. Gaining confidence, he tried a faster stride. Name Unknown was right- it was easy to forget you were thinking about it! It...his foot hit a dropped wrench and he staggered suddenly. His arms shot out to gain some balance and his flailing arm smacked Scoutbot in the face, sending the lighter robot flying before Eagle fell flat on his face.

There was a metallic clatter as Scoutbot slammed into the wall with a startled cry. Eagle rolled over and sat up, looking over at the surprised robot.

"Fuck." Scoutbot muttered, looking disdainfully at the silver streak along his torso. "You scratched my paintwork!"

Eagle looked at him and made an odd crackling noise. It took Scoutbot a moment to realise he was laughing. Eagle was _laughing_.

 _Eagle_ _was laughing!_

"Dude, not funny." Scoutbot said, his voice catching as he tried not to chortle.

"I fell down, and then you fell down." Eagle said, cackling. "This is a funny thing."

"Hey, this is serious." Scoutbot tried to say before his voice broke down and he joined in the laughter. "Jeez. You're impossible, you know that?"

Eagle just continued laughing, and Scoutbot decided it was the best sound he'd ever heard.

 **In Chapter Twelve: Dell decides to do some investigating and comes to an unpleasant conclusion...**


	14. Investigations

_Author's Note: It seems Eagle has become a really popular character! I have had a number of reviews begging me not to let anything bad happen, which makes me wonder how much it's worth. I accept ..._

 _In the meantime, we need more tentaspy! I think I should apologise in advance for the fish-related humour in this chapter. What can I say? I have the sense of humour of a ten year old..._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Twelve: Investigations**

Scoutbot had pretty much vanished. Dell saw him at work, but other than that, he was never there. No one knew where he was. The lack of that tin-can's company affected Dell more than he expected. He hadn't realised how much Scoutbot lurked about, chatting to him and Pyro Chinbao in the evenings.

More to the point, he was worried. He had even wondered if the robot was... Dell shot down that thought in a hurry. He couldn't go assuming the worst without more evidence. He knew that. Even so...

Even _this_ wasn't giving him as much of a feeling of triumph as it should, he thought, as he grabbed his robotic arm in his left hand and twisted it off. There was a little resistance, and then it smoothly disengaged.

"Here." Chinbao said, handing him his new prosthetic. Dell had to admit that he'd made it a little too well- part of him shuddered, watching the prosthetic flop about in Pyro's grip, just like a real severed arm. Wasn't it Scout, back at Teufort before everything went to pot, who had once used the Red Spy's arm as a weapon? Somebody had. Dell felt his spine prickle. It didn't matter now- that poor young BLU Scout was long dead, buried in an unmarked pile of stones in a deserted stretch of forest.

 _Well, Dell Conagher, you sure know how to cheer yourself up. Concentrate, you old fool._

"Here goes." Dell placed what remained of his right arm in the socket, and gave another twist, attaching the new prosthetic with a firm click. He held it up and flexed his fingers. Except for a slight dent around the middle of his forearm, it looked entirely human. He smiled in satisfaction.

"You did it!" Pyro stood and laughed, clapping his hands gleefully. Dell had no problems understanding the masked man after being friends for so long. "You're a genius."

He gave a slight grin. Being called a 'genius' always made him squirm a bit. He'd never felt particularly special- he just did the things that interested him. "You helped a lot with the colours, Sparkie. You have an eye for that. I'll still use the old one, since it's more versatile, but I reckon our L'il missy will be pleased to see this. Could make us a lot of money, I reckon. I'll wear it for a bit, see how it feels."

"You could make Scoutbot look human." Pyro said softly. "Maybe he'd like that?"

Dell whistled through his teeth in thought, tapping his fingers. "Nope," He said after a long moment, "Not sure he would. Humans don't have wings, see?"

"You could ask him." Pyro replied slyly.

"Aww, heck." Engineer replied with a defeated sigh. "It's not that I don't want to..."

"You _don't_ want to." Pyro pointed out.

"Alright, alright, he got me all riled up." Dell admitted. "But...I can't get _near_ him outside of work-time. No point tryin' to strike up a conversation when there's a whole loada folks about, is there?"

"'Oh, Scoutbot, would you let me know if you've gone crazy or not?'" Pyro said in a sing-song voice. "People ask me that. I never know what to answer." His masked head drooped and he looked at his knees.

"Yer not crazy, yer just...special." Dell assured him. He snorted mirthlessly."Just like the rest of us in this crazy place. Talented and sane rarely go together, and most folks 'round here are as talented as a box of frogs!"

"Scoutbot is sane." Chinbao said firmly. "He's not a threat. He's a good man."

"Huh." Dell muttered in reply. Pyro had this...way of seeing things, that made Dell, as a scientific and sceptical man, rather uneasy. He had discussed it with Medic once, and the German had said that Pyro was 'highly intuitive', whatever that meant. He would predict events or the ways people would act in a way Dell couldn't help but think was impossible and, even more annoyingly, get it absolutely right. So, even though it irked his scientific ethics, he had learnt to listen to the masked man's hunches and feelings.

"He is on a road." Chinbao continued. "He travels."

"Where to, Sparky?"

Pyro paused for a moment, deep in thought. "His life. His Way."

"Right, that's real helpful." Dell replied sourly.

"I'm sorry." Pyro looked down again in shame.

"Aw, heck, I'm sorry, son, didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried about him, is all." Dell patted the rubber suited shoulder comfortingly.

"His friends know. Jacques, Tiny Vlad." Chinbao paused. "Maybe Albrecht."

"How do you kn..." Dell stopped himself. "I... guess I could check in on them. Thanks, Sparky."

"Are you going now?"

"Yep. Best I get it done." Dell said, squaring his shoulders. "I'll tell you how I get on."

Pyro gave Dell an encouraging wave as he walked off. So, who would he try to track down first? He could use their internal mind-to-mind telecoms left over from the robot war, but since the Mass Migraine of December '71, it was mostly unused, since it caused every single person on the base, with the exception of Pauling's group, to hear loud voices in their heads. This was not an emergency; no need to badger everyone.

He padded down the corridor, realising that Medic Albrecht's infirmary would be the closest. Also, Albrecht was...less weird than the other people Pyro had suggested. There, he admitted it. What had happened to Vlad and Jacques wasn't their fault, of course, but they still made him feel a little uncomfortable. He sometimes wondered if Jacques was even really human any more...

 _You're friends with a robot and you have problems with humans who are a little different? That's pure hypocrisy, ain't it?_ He shook his head at his self-scolding, took the lift to another floor and then walked to Albrecht's combined infirmary and lab. He pushed the door open quietly.

"Hey dude." Scout said, looking up from a magazine with a yawn and a stretch.

"Ah, hello there, Rick, how're you doin'? Heard you were ill."

"I'm Bobby." He replied with a grin. "Not too bad. Fuckin' bored though."

"You gotta rest and get better."

"Rest, rest, rest." Bobby sighed. "I'm sick of rest. Nobody ever told me the worst thing 'bout bein' sick was the boredom."

"You could ask Albrecht if you could take a few walks or somethin'."

"Yeah, I'm gonna. But not right now." Bobby pointed, and Engineer looked over to a gurney. Medic Albrecht was flat on his back and snoring, one arm hanging loosely over the edge of the trolley. "S' my fault. I was coughin' shit up all last night after...uh, after bein' ill for so long, and I kept him awake."

"Ah...well, I won't disturb him." Dell said backing away quietly.

"Look closer." Bobby said, stifling a snorting laugh that turned into a cough.

Dell frowned in puzzlement and looked at the sleeping man. Mouth open, face slack...not exactly the most dignified sleeper ever, but he looked completely normal. One hand was folded over his chest, and his hand...ah. Ok. That wasn't quite so normal. Tiny Vlad was curled up on the man's torso, using the doctor's hand as a living duvet, his head poking out from under the thumb.

"Well, ain't that a thing." Engineer muttered.

"Kinda cute though." Bobby said with a grin.

"Nope, just weird." Dell stated. "Ah well, I'll try later. See you soon, string-bean."

"See ya, hardhat."

With a resigned sigh, Engineer realised this meant he would have to see Jacques instead. Ah well, it wasn't as if the octopus-man was going to, to _eat_ him or anything. Would he? _Come on, son, you're made of sterner stuff than this._ He squared his shoulders and got into the lift to the ground floor. On the way, the elevator stopped and Sniper Lawrence stepped in, his wetsuit creaking and filling the room with the smell of old seaweed. Dell cleared his throat slightly and moved away as politely as he could.

"Hey, there," He said, relieved to have some company. "You off to see your fishy friend?"

"Octopus, not fish. But yeah." Sniper replied easily. He gestured at his harpoon. "M'off to get some fish for him."

"I'm sure he can catch his own fish, y'know."

"Yeah, normally." Sniper shrugged, his wetsuit rustling. "He's bin a bit crook recently though, so I'm helpin' out. He likes slippery dick."

"Uh..." Dell cleared his throat and pulled at his collar awkwardly with a weak laugh. "Not sure that's somethin' I needed to know."

"It's a fish, ya dirty wanker." Sniper explained with a grin and a snort. "I reckon it's called that 'cos it's a proper little sod to catch. Halichoeres bivittatus."

"So, he's sick?" Engineer said, changing the subject quickly.

"Yeah." Sniper replied, his high forehead wrinkling with worry lines. "Stupid tosser won't go an' see the Doc about it. Doesn't seem to get any worse, but doesn't get any better either."

"Huh. That's not good. Can't say I blame him, mind. Not sure I'd dare go near a doc 'less I was dyin', after what he's been through. Anyway, I was on my way to see him, assuming I could even find him."

"He tends to come in from the reef at this time o'day. I asked him to monitor fish numbers fer me, so let's go an' see him before I go off shooting dicks."

Dell blinked, telling himself sternly that he was more mature than this, and simply nodded. They continued down to the ground floor of the Institute and out towards Jacques' favourite beach.

"I used to chum the water to get his attention," Sniper explained as they crunched across the pebbles, "But with him bein' so queasy, the last time I did that he chundered all over my feet. Anyway, I'll just holler."

The tall man walked down to the water's edge. "Oi, haddock-breath! You got visitors. Get your ugly mug up 'ere!" He knelt down and sloshed the water with his fingers. It seemed to Dell that he was using a specific rhythm to summon his friend. Sure enough, after a few moments, the water stirred and Jacques surfaced with a toothy smile. Dell shuddered at the sight of those translucent, sharp teeth and the dimly glowing yellow eyes.

"Filthy jar-man. Labourer." Jacques said, nodding to them each, and then yawning. "Not often I ssee you here."

"You know how it is, always busy, always things to do." Dell explained.

"How're you doin' today, mate?" Lawrence asked earnestly, kneeling cross-legged by the water.

"Very tired, but the naussea issn't as bad today." Jacques said with an idle shrug. "Incidently, your ssuit ssstinks of rotting sseaweed. Get it wasshed."

"It's in the bloody water every day! Why would I..."

"To what do we owe the pleassure, Engineer?" Jacques said, turning to Dell with a ripple of water.

"I came to ask you somethin'." Dell admitted, scratching his bald head. "You see a lot of Scoutbot, don't ya?"

"Oui." Jacques gave a slow blink. "He iss a good friend."

"He's bin' acting real strange recently, and I'm gettin' worried 'bout him. Stealing things from my workshop, pickin' fights, keeping to himself. All kinds o' furtive, you know." He explained. "I was wondering if he'd talked to you at all about it."

"Hmm." Jacques said thoughtfully, picking up a pebble and fiddling with it idly. "I know of nothing in particular that iss troubling him, if that iss your quesstion. Perhaps he has been a little..disstracted lately. Lawrence, have you noticed anything?" A tentacle slipped out of the water and poked Sniper's knee.

Sniper shifted slightly, moving his weight from one leg to the other as he thought. " Last time we played cards, he was proper toey, not himself. But hell, we're all a bit bloody weird here, right?" Jacques snorted in agreement and then looked back at Dell.

"He losst the game, as he alwaysss doess." Jacques said with a grin.

"Dag nab it." Dell said with a sigh. "I was hopin' you fellas would cast some light on the situation."

"He iss a ssstranger in a sstrange land, labourer. It takess time to adjusst. You must treat him fairly."

"Nah, he's just bein' a bloody brat." Sniper Lawrence said firmly. Jacques rolled his eyes tiredly.

"Yeah...well, thanks fellas." Engineer murmured with a nod. "Y'all, you've been a help. I'll leave you to get on with those slippery dicks of yours." He paused, swallowed, and finally shrugged awkwardly and waved before walking away. Just as he got out of earshot, he heard Jacques' hissing voice:

" _What_ did he just ssay?"

He trudged back up the beach, his mind whirling. So, Jacques hadn't seen anything, and he and the robot were close. However, Jacques was a Spy- could he have been lying? Normally Dell had no problem reading people's emotions, but it was a lot more difficult when the person was half-cephalopod. No...why would he lie? He had nothing to gain from it, surely? They _did_ confirm that Scoutbot was acting oddly. Added together with the rest of his recent behaviour, that meant...

Dell opened the door and realised his flesh and blood hand was trembling slightly. _Huh, better eat something before I get hypoglycaemic again. Damned diabetes._ He walked over to the lift and punched the floor number for the mess hall. As he travelled he gritted his teeth, trying to put off an unpleasant conclusion.

...that meant that Scoutbot was malfunctioning.

 _Goddammit._ His robotic hand curled into a clenched fist. He knew what he had to do, and it'd be better to get it over with fast. He didn't want to; didn't want to do it at all, but what was he, other than a solver of practical problems?

 **In Chapter Thirteen: Eagle does some exploring and finds something that perhaps he shouldn't, and Scoutbot goes missing...**


	15. Broken Robots

_Author's Note: It's lucky thirteen, the chapter where everything finally goes to hell!_

 _In other news, I just realised something awesome about the Gun Mettle cartoon. There was a passage in it that puzzled me: Saxton Hale's description of the mercs as 'Defectives. Drunks. Sex Criminals. War Criminals.' Now three of those I can easily see, but...sex criminals? Isn't that a little too dark and squicky for the TF2 lore? Also, we've seen no hint that any of the nine of them are rapists or paedophiles, so what's going on? Then I remembered: in the 1960s, being homosexual was a crime in most of the US. So, is this another hint of canon merc shipping? It's an interesting and lovely idea._

 _Anyway, have some story..._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Thirteen: Broken Robots**

The legs were getting easier to use. Legs and arms: it all came back. He remembered using them before the thin purple human had disabled him. What had Name Unknown called him? Spy. That was it. Spy Théo.

Eagle let himself out of the workshop and ambled through the empty base. He brought the radio with him, since the voices and music from it were oddly comforting. He didn't like it when it was too quiet. Silence made time pass slowly, just as it had when he had been in the metal box. Everything was better and brighter when Name Unknown was around.

He wandered along the corridors, metal feet creaking on the linoleum under his feet, trying to decide what exactly this place was for. Some rooms had familiar things in it, like computers and control desks, but others had chairs covered with soft, squishy material that looked structurally unsound and served no purpose. Those rooms had bright colours that fitted no designation that Eagle knew about, and what looked like faulty photographs on the walls. After studying one for a bit, he decided they must be what the radio called 'art'. The voice on the radio explained that they were enjoyable to look at, so Eagle sat down in one of the chairs and watched the picture for 10 minutes and 27 seconds, at which point the heat from his internal combustion engine made the chair smoke, so he stood up again. The chair then burst into flames but Eagle managed to put it out after carefully reading the instructions on a nearby fire extinguisher. He nodded to himself sagely. He had been right- those chairs were very badly designed. He examined the picture for a little bit longer, and decided that maybe it meant more if you had seen the rocky, orange- coloured place it showed. He shrugged, and left to find other rooms.

The next interesting room he found had a metal door that was locked, so Eagle peered in through the reinforced window, and saw stacks of boxes and various tubular metal items. Weapons. He remembered weapons- how could he forget? He leaned further forward, the blue light from his eyes illuminating the room coldly.

He remembered killing humans. It was patchy- flashes of detail passed before his eyes. Humans screaming, splashes of bright colours as they leaked. The odd noises they made as they died. He had been on many missions before that final one, but he couldn't remember how many, or where they had been. There were dusty landscapes, snowy ones and green ones, but it was all so vague now.

He placed a hand on the glass, looking at the dents and pockmarks in his jointed fingers. Supposedly, they were the regulation blue, but most of the paint had been scraped or burnt off. He was just a battered robot with a broken mind. His hand clenched into a fist, scraping against the glass. The window made little squeaking noises of protest as something caught his eye beyond it.

It just one of the many weapons, but it looked familiar. A long tube, with two handles, flared at one end. Something about it made Eagle want to hold it. It... _belonged_ to him, didn't it? He needed it. He _had_ to have it. His hand pressed harder on the glass and it shattered, held in place by the metal wires reinforcing it.

Oh...he had forgotten glass could smash. Maybe...doors did too? Hadn't he smashed down doors in that distant, fractured past? He tried punching it, but all that did was dent both the door and his fist. He tried ramming the door with his shoulder, but that just dented him even more before he staggered and fell on his back. His motor roared in protest for a moment before he righted himself. Hmm. Perhaps there was something useful back in his own room? Name Unknown had opened his metal cupboard with a tool, after all. The Mak...Gray Mann had used all sorts of tools to do things, clever things. He put one hand on the wall to support himself as he thought.

 _Beep. Click._

He jumped back with a rattle and realised he had rested his hand on a panel with numbers on it. Accidentally, he had pressed the one four times. Wait- he knew what this was. This was a security panel. It opened doors.

 _It opened doors!_

Eagle started to cackle in delight as he grabbed the handle and pushed the battered but now unlocked door open- and there, right in front of him, was the thing he wanted so much: his weapon. He picked it up slowly and reverently before placing it on his shoulder. Yes, that felt so _right!_ His finger squeezed the trigger, and, of course, nothing happened. There was...something else, wasn't there? He needed another thing to make it work. Rockets. That was it- it took rockets. Eagle put the tube down for a moment to sort through the various boxes on the floor until he found one that looked right. He picked it up and took a rocket out of it and put it into the launcher. He then marched out of the small room, aimed at a piece of blank wall, and pressed the trigger.

The next few seconds were confusing, involving a huge wall of sound, swirling black, red and orange and a final thump as Eagle's chassis hit the opposite wall. He sat there dazedly for a few moments, as the radio continued to chatter in the distance- some programme about the ancient Greeks, whatever they were.

 _So...what happened then?_

The wall opposite him was now a mess of black soot and flame and as he looked down at himself, he realised he had added yet a few more scorch marks to his decrepit frame. Huh. Maybe this tube was better used outdoors? He would have to ask Name Unknown if they could explore outside for a while. Come to think of it...where was his friend? Shouldn't he be here by now?

Eagle got up, picking up his new weapon without even really thinking about it. _Maybe Name Unknown is waiting for me back in the workshop?_

He walked determinedly back down the corridor to his room, feet clanking over the chatter of the radio. He listened idly to see if there was anything Name Unknown might tell him more about. As he reached the workshop, the voice mentioned something that stopped him in his tracks with astonishment.

 _Oh...I need to tell him this! Right now!_

In his excitement, Eagle ran into the workshop eagerly, only to find it just as empty as he had found it. His friend wasn't there...where had he got to? He was now two hours, twenty-three minutes and five seconds late! He padded out again, but there was no sign of him. Worry suddenly seized the robot, making his joints rattle and squeak.

 _Was he alright? Had something happened to him?_

Before he could even think too much about that, though, he realised he had forgotten something very important: that fuel could run out. His petrol motor coughed and spluttered, running too fast for a moment as it gulped in air instead of petrol, and he had just enough time to shut himself down safely before it stopped, and he pitched forward and hit the ground with a clang.

* * *

"Hey Dude, welcome back. You ok?" A familiar voice asked.

...Rebooting after safe shutdown...

...Running Diagnostics...100%...

...Warning: 86.4% of AI programming lost...

...Power at 100%...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...ERROR: Connection failed after four retries...

...I should have guessed that would happen...

...Checking internal chronometer...

...Name Unknown has been gone 1 day, 21 hours, 2 minutes and 45 seconds!...

...What happened?...

"What happened?" Eagle asked.

"You ran outta gas, bro." Scoutbot explained as Eagle got back to his feet. He looked terrible- his normally smooth, well-polished chassis covered in dents and scratches, silver streaking through purple. He fidgeted from foot to foot rapidly. "Do you know how to mix two-stroke? I kinda guessed at the mix, but you've not seized up or smoked the place out, so I guess I got it right."

"I want to know what happened to you." He insisted, grabbing the smaller robot's arm. "You're late."

"Yeah, I am." Scoutbot said. He glanced behind himself briefly. "It's... like... everything's gone to shit. Pack your stuff... uh, if you have any. We gotta leave. Now."

"Leave?" Eagle said in bafflement. "Why? Where are we going?"

"Ah, jeez." Scoutbot slumped with a metallic sigh. To Eagle, he looked defeated and miserable. "I better tell ya what happened. Then we're outta here."

Eagle nodded, and Scoutbot started to tell him about the terrible day he'd had.

* * *

The previous day, Scoutbot had been doing the job he was given very often- that of messenger boy. The Institute did have a radio system, but it was often quicker to simply look for someone by listening for the explosions or arguments. Some might have thought delivering notes was dull, but Scoutbot actually enjoyed it. He loved flying and zipping amongst the half-built skeletons of new buildings, finding sneaky new routes and punking people by flying close enough to them to muss their hair. Also, he got to read all the crazy things the ex-mercs wrote to each other:

 _"Demo Tavish,_

 _Strawberries are not available at this time of year. Didn't I tell you to stop wasting your time on this? Also, that 'automatic grenade building machine' of yours looks awfully like a still to me. Take it apart immediately._

 _Clara Pauling."_

 _"Heavy Dimitri,_

 _Can you convince Medic Uwe to stop sharpening my screwdrivers when he borrows them? Not all tools are supposed to be sharp! I've tried asking him myself, but he just won't listen to reason._

 _Engineer Connor."_

 _"Spy Marcus,_

 _You-know-who has seen that person at you-know-where. Can I suggest you do what you are best at, when the time is right. Make sure The Item is secured on your person first. Take Jemima Cordes out for a walk, why don't you?_

 _Spy Gabriel."_

 _"Demo Iain,_

 _Can I borrow some Caesium from you? It burns with such a lovely green colour. I have a plan. It will be beautiful._

 _Pyro Fanxue."_

 _"Engineer Dell,_

 _I have decided that we need to have a barbecue tonight for the sake of morale. Attendance is mandatory. I expect you to bring your gas grill along._

 _P.S. Also, bring a full bottle of gas for it._

 _P.P.S. We need food, too._

 _P.P.P.S. You are cooking._

 _Soldier."_

Scoutbot sighed in resignation at that last one. _Great. Now I've gotta go face Dell. This is gonna be so awkward._ Still...maybe...Dell would apologise. Because, obviously, Scoutbot wasn't going to. Not first. And Dell had acted like a dick, right? He, Scoutbot, had done nothing wrong. Nothing worth speaking of. Nothing important.

Anyway, he was no coward. He could face Engie. No problem. He dived towards the Institute's main building. Cool! There was an open window. That made things easy. Yeah, he'd been told never to enter through windows ever again, but what the hell. He dived through, sending papers fluttering around the office room like excited puppies and exited quickly into the corridor to the sound of French swearing.

"Sorry Spook, gotta message!" He said, leaving before Spy could try and sap him.

He quickly made his way to Dell's workshop, pushing the door open cautiously before telling himself off for being a pussy. He stopped, squared his shoulders, and shoved the door open boldly.

"Hey, Hardhat." He said casually, putting the note down on the table. "Got a message for you. From Soldier."

"Well hello there, Scoutbot." Dell said, looking up and tucking a pencil behind his ear. He had his goggles on, so Scoutbot had no idea what his expression was. He seemed calm enough- just a little cold, maybe? He stood up and approached the robot, idly picking up the note and reading it with a snort.

"Well, darn." He said. "A good old grill is a mighty fine idea, but I sure don't like his tone. Mind you, I wouldn't trust his cooking...tell you what, I'll agree and then slap him with a charge for the meat. That'd work."

"Yeah? I guess... means you don't look like a doormat, but you get to party."

"That's the plan." Dell said distractedly. He crossed his arms and looked up at the robot. "So, Scoutbot, are you ready to return the things you stole yet?"

"Uh..." Scoutbot paused, fidgeting and not sure what to say. He expected anger and knew how to cope with that, but this politeness...how the hell did he answer? "Still need them."

"And are you gonna tell me what you're usin' them for?" He folded the note carefully in half, then into quarters, and then eighths.

"...No?" Scoutbot replied slowly.

"Last chance, son."

"Still no." Scoutbot said firmly.

"Well, that's a shame, son. A real shame." Dell said quietly, and he did actually sound sad. Not angry at all, and Scoutbot suddenly felt a thrill of fear. "You don't know how sorry this makes me."

"Huh? Sorry? For what?" Scoutbot took a pace backwards without even realising. He heard the whirr of a motor, and then the door slammed and locked behind him and he whirled around to face it. "Dude! What're you doing? What the hell is this shit?"

"It's ok, Scoutbot. I forgive you. Don't you worry now. I'll sort everythin' out." A hand was placed on his shoulder, and something grabbed his neck. A tiny sliver of metal deftly poked into his neck joint, there was a firm click, and everything faded to blackness.

 **In Chapter Fourteen: Scoutbot faces a fate worse than death, and Medic Albrecht puts suture silk and needles to an unusual use...**


	16. Friends in Low Places

_Author's Note: I just realised I forgot to put the most important aspect of this chapter in my teaser note: Scoutbot gets a name. Anybody manage to guess it?_

 _While writing this story, I discovered there was a thing called micro/macrophilia, and realised I had catered to an unusual fetish. You're welcome._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Fourteen: Friends in Low Places**

When Scoutbot was switched back on, he felt he had been transported back in time.

Once again, he was strapped to a bench in a workshop. He was able to move, though, and he yanked viciously at his restraints, trying to pull himself free without success. However, he refused to stop and kept pulling until his joints squeaked and groaned and metal flakes chipped off his wrists.

"Woah, woah there, Son. You're not in any danger." Dell said, looking down at him with some tiny gadget in his hand. "Emergency cut-off switch. Worked just as it said in Ol' Violet's blueprints. Don't worry about anyone else usin' it though- this l'il tool uses an encrypted code to activate..."

"Fuck your dumb tool! Let me go!" Scoutbot spat, pulling at the chains again.

"Calm down, Scoutbot. Seems I got an apology to make."

" _Now_ you wanna apologise? Bit late isn't it?"

"I shouldn't have let you malfunction for this long. Shoulda spotted it earlier." Dell said. To the enraged and frightened robot, he sounded disturbingly sincere.

"Mal...malfunction? What the fuck, there's nothin' wrong with me!" Dell moved to his side and seemed to be fiddling with the robot's ear. "What the hell are you doin'?"

"You don't realise it, but you've been acting pretty darn strange the last week or so." There was a loud click right by Scoutbot's ear. "So, I'm gonna take a look-see at your algorithms and see what's gone wrong. Then I can put it all right. I'll fix you, make you all better."

"What! There's nothin' wrong with me." Scoutbot protested. "I'm fine. Get the hell away from me! Is this about that stolen crap? Jeez, dude, way to overreact!"

"Not just that." Dell said quietly, plugging wires into Scoutbot's head. "I'm thinking that maybe somethin' happened to you recently that caused a logical fault, something your programming couldn't parse. That's easy to fix, though- I just wipe your memories of the last coupla weeks or so and you'll be right back to your old self."

"What?" Scoutbot tried to break free again. "No! Don't do that. I can't forget...stuff. You can't make me forget!" He thrashed in the restraints, feeling himself starting to panic and determined to break free, even if he wrenched his own arms and legs off.

"Woah, woah there!" Dell said again, holding up a hand and then throwing a switch. Scoutbot went still, dropping back to the bench with a clatter. "Sorry 'bout that. You were gonna break somethin', so I disabled your servos. Look, I know losin' memory sounds pretty darn scary, but I can fill you in on what you missed." Dell said earnestly. He patted the robot on the shoulder and gave him a supportive smile. "You'll thank me, I'm sure, once you're all better."

"You can't do this." Scoutbot said, his voice lowering to a defeated whisper. He could only see the ceiling tiles above him. White squares. One was peeling, showing a grey corner. A spider ambled across lazily. "You can't. Please."

" You won't feel nothin', and then you'll be much happier, I promise."

"Is this how it's gonna be from now on?" Scoutbot asked, his voice crackling with static as more wires were attached to his head. "Every time I act out...or do somethin' you don't like, you fuck with my mind? Make sure I don't do it again? The Hardhat _I_ know- the guy who was my friend, who gave me wings- wouldn't do that. He'd let me...be _me_."

Dell breathed out through his nose and took a step back, rubbing his chin. He lifted his goggles onto his forehead, and even through his panic, Scoutbot could see genuine regret and pain in those baby-blue eyes.

"If this is the way it's gotta be, it's the way it's gotta be. You're a prototype. First of your kind. Makes you special, but...not optimal." Engineer said softly. He walked over and switched on some box covered with buttons and switches which started to hum. "I'm sorry, Scoutbot."

"No..." Scoutbot croaked. _I'm sorry, Eagle._ All his dreams and plans were falling apart, and it had happened so suddenly. Where had he gone wrong? Now, he was going to get his mind wiped and he would forget all about the lonesome robot in Alaska. He thought of the baffled robot, wandering about the empty building, wondering where Scoutbot was until he finally ran out of fuel and shut down for the last time. Abandoned yet again.

Engineer flicked a couple more switches and the hum got louder, more urgent. _I gave Eagle a life, and he won't have a chance to live it._

 _Neither will I._

There was a quiet but firm knock at the door. Dell muttered something and went to get it.

"Doc? Somethin' I can do for ya?"

"Ah, I'm glad I found you." Medic Albrecht said. He looked over at Scoutbot briefly, his eyes widening before Dell moved pointedly and blocked the view. "I have to discuss zhe results of your last blood test vizh you."

"Problem?" Dell asked, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

"It is not serious- I hope- but ve need to discuss it _privately_." Medic said pointedly, nodding at the robot.

"Oh...sure. When's a good time?"

"How about... now?"

"I'm kinda busy here..."

"Engineer, vhen I say 'now' is a good time, vhat I mean is 'unless you vant to undergo catastrophic organ failure, now is an _excellent_ time.'" Albrecht continued calmly.

"A...Are you serious?"

"Vell, zhat is worst case scenario." He said with a cheerful smile, grabbing Engineer's arm and tugging him firmly out of the room. "I only vant to perform a few tests and zhey von't be too agonising..." Albrecht looked back quickly at the despairing robot and gave a very quick wink before firmly booting the door shut. The sound of Medic's chatter and Engineer's protests faded into silence.

Scoutbot laid back and looked at the ceiling. He must have imagined that wink, right? Medics just didn't _do_ that kinda thing! And yet...the nutty old bastard _had_ to be lying. Except for that gross stuff with the needles and insulin, Dell was a picture of health. Was it just the normal Doc stuff, grabbing a random guy for one of his sick experiments...

There was a quiet _tink_ noise at the back of the workshop.

...or was it a diversion?

Another tink. A third. A fourth. A clang.

"Leetle Scout!" A voice hissed.

"Heavy?" Scoutbot tried to look around, but he was still disabled. "Where are ya?"

A minute grappling hook suddenly flew into view and fastened securely around his arm. There were a couple of pulls, and then a grunt as the rope went tight. Scoutbot started to chortle.

"Tiny Vlad, it's you, isn't it? You crazy old dude! Where the flying fuck did you get that little grappler from?"

"Is suture silk and bent needles. Doktor says 'Hello'." The shrunken Russian's head peeked over the side of the bench Scoutbot was chained to, grinning gleefully. "Now, you want me to let you out?"

"Yeah! He's gonna mess with my brain! I've gotta get out of here." Scoutbot exclaimed and then paused. "Wait...how do you know 'bout this?"

"Hnn. Maybe Albrecht and Vlad overheard conversation with twin Scouts." Vlad said, scurrying over and removing the various wires plugged into Scoutbot's head. Scoutbot sighed electronically as his servos kicked into life again, and Vlad moved on to undoing Scoutbot's restraints. "Is possible, da? And maybe I thought 'Scoutbot is doing right thing, but is always seen to be doing wrong, because is robot'."

"Huh. You'd make a great Spy." Scoutbot sat up hurriedly, observing the new scratches on his paintwork with annoyance.

"Ha!" Vlad barked. "Could not be Spy- do not smoke. Spy is leetle and weak man."

"Dude... Do I need to say anythin'?"

"I am small on outside, but big on inside." Vlad declared, using his rope to climb up onto Scoutbot's shoulder. "Anyway, you should be glad. Tiny Vlad fits through air vents. Nobody else can do that, da? Come, we go. Doktor has many, many tests to run on Engineer. Many needles and metal tubes. Tests will take...oh, until he sees me again."

"Somehow, I don't feel sorry for him." Scoutbot said bitterly. "But... I owe you. Big time. Where're we going?"

"I am going back to Doktor. Do not know where you are going. Do you?"

"Not really." Scoutbot shook his head and shrugged in exasperation. "Hell, I got no idea."

"I could tell you, but I think _you_ need to decide, for self, for soul." Vlad said with a shrug. "You are made to run- but is running best? Or is better to stand?"

"I can fly too."

"Flying does not work in this metaphor."

"Huh. Your English is getting better."

"Spasiba. I got to get back to Doktor, leetle Scout."

"Thanks, Vlad. Thanks...for everything." On impulse, Scoutbot plucked the small man off his shoulder and hugged him carefully. "I'll go and...and...do something awesome."

"Good luck." Vlad said as Scoutbot put him down gently on the floor. "Also, you hug like girl. Now go."

Scoutbot looked around quickly and sprinted off down the corridor. First of all, he needed to get far away from Dell's workshop. He took the lift and headed to a random floor. Could he fly off? No, too obvious. He'd be noticed in a second. He spotted a half-open door and went into a dusty supply room full of cleaning products. Getting anyone in the Institute to actually _clean_ was always a difficult task. Sniper Mick and Spy Albert had volunteered to be 'cleaners' for the Institute, until they had found out it was the tedious, non-lethal sort of cleaning, at which point they had both hastily said no. It would be safe in here. He had a moment to think, and decide on a plan.

His first idea was to simply go to Alaska, grab Eagle and then run. Go somewhere away from all the fucking dumbass humans and their stupid mistrust. The problem was that he needed electricity, and Eagle needed gas, and possibly even Australium if his core ran low. There was no way to get those in the snowy wildernesses. Plus, they'd both rust.

Whatever he did, he wasn't letting Eagle be forgotten again. He deserved better than this. In fact, Eagle was at the heart of this whole mess, wasn't he? Anything Scoutbot decided would affect him too.

Scoutbot started to pace back and forth.

 _You are made to run- but is running best? Or is better to stand?_

Yeah, he could run, but he was no coward. Perhaps...perhaps it would be best to stand up to Dell and say 'Screw you!'. If only he could make him _see_. If he knew Scoutbot had activated and rebuilt a robot, he'd be pretty damn proud, surely...

His pacing slowed and stopped.

That was it, wasn't it? He had to bring Eagle to the Institute. Show them all what he had been doing- and let them know that Engineer had locked Eagle in a cupboard for a year. Eagle was lonely and bored- he needed more company, and the guys needed to know Scoutbot wasn't nuts. Sure, it was going to cause one hell of a lot of arguments and shouting, but the guys were always fighting and bickering. One more fight would be nothing. He could face it.

He stood straighter, squared his shoulders and walked firmly to the nearest teleport room.

* * *

"So, yeah, I got the fuck outta there and came back to find you." Scoutbot finished. His shoulders slumped and he sighed.

"I will meet the humans?" Eagle asked. He glanced around himself and took a step backwards. "Will they attack?"

"Fuck no!" Scoutbot said firmly, and then hesitated. "Uh...maybe. I mean, depends. Ah hell, they will, won't they? Huh. Hey, I know: what with all the new developments, there are some teleports on islands away from the main Institute. It's just easier to get there that way. We land there, I fly ahead to let them know we're coming, then we go in. Does that sound cool?"

"Words don't have a temperature."

"Nah! I mean: you think that'll work?"

"I don't know." Eagle replied blankly.

"Oh...yeah, guess you don't." Scoutbot said sadly. "I...dunno either, but we're outta options here. Jeez, I mean, dude, it's either that or live out here in Bumfuck, Alaska, forever."

"Is that bad?"

" _Yeah_ that's bad. I mean, what if one of us breaks down? Who the hell'd fix us? I ain't got a power socket with the right dealie on the end, and we're gonna run out of gas for you sometime, and anyway, it's real bad to keep hotwiring your motor. It'll fuck it up totally in time. And then we're screwed."

"So we have to go. Yes." Eagle squared his shoulders for a second before slumping again. It was such a human gesture that it made Scoutbot realise how much he'd changed since they had first met.

"It'll be fine, bro." Scoutbot said with a sigh. "Don't be scared. They won't...shoot you on sight or anythin'."

"Can I bring my tube?"

"Huh? What tu.." Eagle held up his rocket launcher proudly. "Oh _Hell_ no! You turn up with that and we _will_ get shot on sight! They'll think I'm staging some cheesy robot uprising or some such crap."

"But it's mine!"

"Yeah, I know. Just...trust me on this, ok?"

"I trust you, Name Unknown."

"So, let's go and...and... you trust me? You...do? But nobody trusts me except..." He stopped. "Ah, fuck this shit. Let's go."

"Wait." A metal hand suddenly held his scratched arm. Scoutbot looked back in surprise.

"Huh?"

"I know your name." Eagle said earnestly.

"'Course you do, numbnuts, I keep telling ya; Scoutbot."

"That's your designation. Your name is Hermes."

"What? Where the hell did you get that fag-ass name from?"

"The radio told me. The winged messenger. Hermes." Eagle said firmly. "You are Hermes."

"Winged messenger..." Scoutbot said thoughtfully, before shaking his head. "I guess it kinda fits..."

"You _are_ Hermes." Eagle insisted. "You have no other name. Just a label."

"It's... I... uh... ok, I'll think about it." Scoutbot shrugged. "Come on, let's go."

The two robots left the room and silence fell.

 **In Chapter Fifteen: The robots arrive in the Bahamas, and Scoutbot finds out that Engineer has out-maneuvered him yet again...**


	17. Robots Can Die

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! As some of you will know, this website has had server difficulties for a while and therefore I was unable to post before work this morning. Ah well, better late than never, right?_

 _Whee, the new comic came out! I loved it. I was surprised at Gray Mann dying- I thought he'd go on forever. I am pleased my prediction about Medic- that he'd be the one to heal Sniper- was correct. It seems he wasn't a mole though, just a twit. Now I am wondering what Olivia Mann is going to think of all this. Considering the Administrator is dying, will it be Olivia Mann versus Miss Pauling? Interesting idea, anyway... Now have a story._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Fifteen: Robots Can Die**

Scoutbot walked to the teleport room, quickly outpacing the larger, slower robot. He forced himself to slow down and wait.

"I guess you're a bit scared, huh?"

"Yes." Eagle replied flatly.

"It's ok to admit to being...uh, oh, ok then. So, here's the plan: I go through first and check no one's about. You follow if I don't come back in, um, thirty seconds." He flipped a few switches, choosing a destination on the teleport. "Then, once we're through, I go find some of the guys and let them know about you. Then they say 'Ooh Scoutbot, you're so smart and clever.', and everything's cool. Got it?"

"Yes." Eagle repeated.

"No time like the present then. Let's roll."

"Only Medicbots roll." Eagle pointed out.

"I mean, let's go." Scoutbot marched up and stood on the teleporter confidently. There was the usual flash of light and then he heard seagulls cry and the roaring of the sea. He stepped off the pad, and yes, no one was about. This place was perfect for his plan- it was one of the furthermost islands, which is why it had the teleporter. The bridge to this island wasn't even finished yet. It just had stark metal pillars jutted out of the sea at regular intervals, heading away in a line towards another island about half a mile away. The building itself had a foundation and a basement with unfinished concrete walls and, the teleporter and comms, and that was about it. Wires poked out of the walls and a naked lightbulb hung from the ceiling. Shafts of light fell down the stairwell and dust danced lazily in the air. Scoutbot wondered what the hell the Institute intended to do with this dumb little island, anyway- it didn't look too useful. Maybe stick Pyro or Demo there for time out if they destroyed too many things?

There was a whoosh and a buzz behind him, and Eagle stepped off the teleporter slowly, looking about himself silently...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...WARNING: Failed to connect to network...Retrying...

...SUCCESS: Connected to network...

...Signal strength 12%...

...Uploading...

"Hey bro." Scoutbot said, still glancing about nervously.

"I know this place." Eagle said slowly.

"You can't, you've never seen it. You were made near here though."

"Yes." Eagle replied, pointing. "Over there. I want to go there. Home."

"How'd you know...eh, whatever. Right, you wait here, and I'll go get some of the guys."

"I want to go outside. I want to look." Eagle said.

"Yeah, that's ok. Makes sense. They'll see you're not a threat then, too."

They walked up the stairs into the sunshine, and Scoutbot flicked his wings open. He stamped his feet, and turned back to Eagle.

"Look, thanks, dude. For everything. Nothing's gonna go wrong, but...it's been a blast. You...you were there, just when I needed a friend."

"You let me out of the cupboard." Eagle said solemnly. "You...let me think and made me...be me. You're my best friend, Hermes."

"Yeah, likewise." Hermes patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'll be right back, promise." He took a few steps back, fired his jets and shot straight into the clear sky with a roar.

It _should_ have worked.

In another story, perhaps he would have soared into the blue sky, light sparkling off his wings as he flew higher and higher in the warm air.

In a better story, Scoutbot would have been welcomed back with his new robotic friend, and everything would have been happy ever after.

That is what _should_ have happened.

But it didn't.

Scoutbot knew Engineer was smart, you couldn't miss that- but he hadn't realised that he was also _devious_.

He shot straight upwards, admitting even to himself he was grandstanding a bit for Eagle's benefit, getting nice and high before heading off towards the main building, and it was then that his jets coughed to a halt due his kerosene tanks having been carefully emptied by Engineer Dell while Scoutbot had been switched off in his workshop.

"Ah, craaaa..."

Hermes scrabbled stupidly at nothing for a second, as if he could get a handhold on the air and then started to plummet. He tried to steady himself into a glide, but he was designed more like a rocket than an aeroplane, and his wings were merely fins to direct his flight. All he could do was watch the world spin as he fell back towards the hard concrete foundation on the island.

He just had time to vaguely remember that he was supposed to roll into a ball when he skidded into the ground, tumbling over and over with a clang and a thump each time a new part of him hit the ground. Sparks spat from tortured metal scraping against concrete and he tried to draw in his arms, legs and wings to avoid too much damage.

Pieces of metal clanged, shrieked and broke off, pinwheeling away from him as he finally came to a halt with a groan and a flurry of swearwords. "...aaap."

"Hermes!" There was the sound of clanking metal feet. "You fell. You're broken. Can you think?"

"Yeah..." Scoutbot looked about with his one remaining eye, trying to figure out what state he was in after that. Not good- his right side was completely fucked up. His right foot lay some distance away, glowing red hot and smoking, and his arm was bent in four places and just whirred in protest when he tried to move it. His neck seemed to be bent sideways, but at least his left arm worked.

"Perform a diagnostic." Eagle ordered, picking up the crumpled robot and gently hauling it back towards the teleport. The remainder of hermes' right leg dropped off with in a shower of sparks. "Don't shut down. Keep processing!"

"Yeah, yeah, jeez." Scoutbot muttered grumpily. He felt oddly weak, like he was running out of power. He had only just recharged, though, so that made no sense. A loose connection, maybe? No...that would just make him shut down completely, wouldn't it? "I don't do that diagnostic beep-boop shit."

"You're leaking." Eagle said, putting him down just inside the building and kneeling by him.

"Don't be crazy, machines don't bleed." Scoutbot replied, before looking down at the line of bubbling liquid dripping from his chest onto the concrete floor. He reflexively pressed his working hand to the wound, and the liquid pitted the metal. "Oh, well, fuck."

"Is that your fuel tank? I could patch it."

"It's battery acid." Scoutbot said in defeat. "I'm gonna run outta power, and fast."

"Wait here." Eagle said. He straightened up and walked over to the corner, grabbing his rocket launcher.

"Hey! I told you not to bring that thing!"

"I didn't listen." Eagle shrugged and hefted it onto his shoulder. Scoutbot chuckled slightly.

"Nice one. Good timing." He said. "You learn fast."

"I can fly with this tube. I... remember it. I'll get help." The robot said, turning around to the direction of the Institute. "I'll bring the humans to fix you."

"Woah, no, wait!" Scoutbot said in alarm. "You go there with a rocket launcher, they'll shoot you down! They'll _kill_ you!"

"I can't leave you broken." Eagle stepped away and stood outlined in the doorless entrance of the building. He pointed the rocket launcher down. "I know how to do this."

"Dude, no!"

"I'll be back soon, Hermes."

"NO! DAMMIT EAG..." An explosion swallowed the rest of his words as Eagle rocket jumped into the air.

Scoutbot growled and tried to move, squirming on his one remaining arm and leg. He knew what would happen now: The humans would see the lone Soldierbot rocket-jumping towards the Institute and shoot it down. They wouldn't bother waiting to see what he wanted and he'd be smashed to pieces before he could explain. Scoutbot, meantime, would long since have shut down due to lack of power, and nobody would know where he was, so he'd not get fixed.

 _Robots can't die- they can always be repaired._

That was what Violet Engineer had always said. But what if they broke down in an unknown place and were buffeted by salty sea winds for months until they were reduced to a shapeless limp of rust?

Robots _could_ die- and he was dying.

Four years wasn't nearly a long enough life, especially when two years of it had been spent strapped to a bench and being taken to bits! His left hand bunched itself into a fist so tight his metal fingers squeaked as they ground against his palm.

"No." He stated flatly. No, he was _not_ going to give up. Not ever. He tried to wiggle his wings and realised that, bent and battered as they were, they still moved. Using them and his hand, he squirmed across the floor, crab-like, towards a dusty comms console. Every single step made his power drain lower and lower, and he knew he didn't have much time left. Thank God this island had had its comms station set up! Otherwise he'd be screwed. He punched the buttons with wobbling fingers.

"Hey ,it's Scoutbot, get me an Engineer. I don't give a shit which one. Mayday...or...SOS...or whatever the fuck it is. Emergency!"

"Dell here. How in Sam-Hill did you get outta my workshop?"

"Just shut the hell up and listen, jackass. I'm running outta power. I'm on island...uh...4b. There's a Soldierbot headin' to the Institute, but he's not dangerous."

"A _what_?!" Dell's voice shouted at the other end.

"I found his head in the old headquarters and...did stuff." Scoutbot explained. "I fixed him. Now he's here. I crashed, like bad...battery cracked...and he's gone to find you. Rocket jumping along the new bridge. Don't hurt him!"

There was a moment's silence. Scoutbot wasn't sure if the hiss was backward static, or Dell drawing a breath.

"Damn it, Scoutbot, what have you _done?_ " Dell said in a quiet voice.

"He's...he's..." Scoutbot slurred. It was getting harder to think as his power ran out. "Harmlesssss..."

"No, he's not. He's _really_ not." Dell replied quietly. "I'll come get you later but- first, I gotta stop this fella."

"No!" Scoutbot tried to yell, but his voice just crackled and hissed. "He's...my...friend..."

"Shut yourself down, Scoutbot, 'fore you corrupt your programming." Dell said sternly. "I'll handle this." There was a click, and the Engineer was gone.

Hermes dropped to the floor with a clatter. This was it. The end. God damn it, he had done _nothing_ wrong. He had done all the right things, and everything had gone to hell. He had one last thought before his systems shut down:

 _It's not fair._

* * *

"Damn." Dell said quietly. "Damn, damn, _damn_." He could feel his spine filling with ice and he shuddered. He had really messed up, hadn't he? In all the excitement of the robot war, he had utterly forgotten that Soldierbot head back in Alaska. This situation was nobody's fault except his own.

The batteries. The stolen radio. The wiring. Scoutbot hadn't been malfunctioning- he had been building a robot. A friend. Someone just like him.

And Dell had just _assumed_ he was going rogue. He had judged him as badly as Soldier, hadn't he?

"Pyro, I gotta run." He said firmly. "We better keep this quiet or all Hell'll break loose. Can't have the panic."

"Whhsss gnnngh wrrnnng?"

"You just wait here, Sparkie. I reckon folks might need your help soon." Dell said quietly. He grabbed a number of different items and tools from around the workshop and quickly stowed them in his toolbox."I'll pick up a Sniper on the way to the boat house. We _can't_ let the robot reach this building!"

"Wrrr?!"

He ran to the door and wrenched it open, before looking back at the baffled Pyro. "If he does- No...let's not think about that right now." He ran forward, straight into a white-clad chest.

"Oof! Sorry I vas just coming to...ah...vell, I shall zhink of somezhing." Medic Albrecht said.

"We thought we saw unusual bird, close to workshop window." Tiny Vlad said, tugging on Albrecht's hair. "So, we came for closer look."

"Doc! Just the man. You're comin' with me." Dell said, completely ignoring their rather pathetic excuses. He had noticed the odd couple hanging about a lot recently but he had realised long ago that all Medics did strange things sometimes, and if he pretended not to notice, he could avoid their lengthy and pointless excuses. "We got a situation here, an' if we don't act, it's gonna become one whole load of a mess."

"I zhink I might know somezhing about zhis..." Medic said cautiously.

"I'll explain on the way."

"I saw Sniper Lawrence at zhe boathouse. Maybe he vill still be zhere?"

"You've been listenin' in...ah, never mind that now." Dell led the way. He scurried off down the corridor, making Medic run to keep up while Vlad clung on tightly to Albrecht's shoulder. They reached the lift and he punched the button for the ground floor.

"An armed Soldierbot is comin' to the Institute." Dell explained. "The very one I used for the triangulation tests during the robot war- you remember it?"

"Could not forget."

"It seems Scoutbot brought it here, then broke himself real bad. It's rocket jumpin' towards the main building as we speak. I _have_ to stop it..."

There was suddenly a rubber-gloved hand on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place, and a tiny prick of pain in his neck.

"No..." Albrecht suddenly said behind him. He heard Tiny Vlad chortle. "I don't zhink I can let you do zhat."

 **In Chapter Sixteen: Dell explains why he thinks Eagle is dangerous, and Sniper uses the ultimate robot defeating weapon: a... dead fish?**


	18. Exhausted

_Author's Note: Holy formatting batman! I think I overdid it with the horizontal lines in this chapter. Anyway, welcome to the dramatic climax of the story, where everything finally comes together and makes a really impressive mess. Enjoy!_

 _I've done a piece of artwork for this chapter. You will find it along with my other story-related bits at sanctuscecidit at deviantart. I can't type the address directly in here because this website is a meanie._

 ** _Saving Private Soldierbot_**

 ** _Chapter Sixteen: Exhausted_**

"How dare..." Dell said, certain that whatever was sticking into his neck would knock him out if Albrecht pressed the plunger. _Hopefully,_ all it would do was knock him out. Medics had a strange sense of humour, after all. He froze in place.

"Vlad and I overheard zhe Twin Scouts and Scoutbot talking about zhis." Albrecht explained. "Apparently, zhis Soldierbot has lost most of zhe programming Gray Mann gave him due to Scoutbot's tinkering."

"Yes, but..."

"We fought many robots. But do not make mistake of thinking all robots are bad. Scoutbot is not bad robot." Vlad said solemnly. "And one robot- even if he _is_ murderous, is not big threat. Engineer is overreacting, I am thinking."

"Overreacting?" Dell took a deep breath and suddenly broke free, spinning and pointing a mechanical finger at Vlad. The tiny man went cross-eyed, trying to focus on the digit the same size as his head. "You think I don't know these robots? You think I don't _trust_ Scoutbot? Sure he's been actin' out recently, and I thought... but _now_ , well, I know he had his reasons. Sure, I might not trust him with my wallet, but I'd trust him with my life. If he says this robot is safe, I'd give it a chance. We got respawn, after all."

"So vhat is zhe problem zhen?" Albrecht asked, still holding his syringe uncertainly. A bead of fluid glistened on the tip of the needle and Dell found it hard to look away.

"The 'problem', is _exactly_ the reason we were able to use this robot to find Gray's base in the first place. _It has a radio transmitter_. How can I explain this for a person of the medical persuasion like yourself? It's like a... a... carrier of a virus. Typhoid, or somethin'. Right now, right _this very minute_ it'll be transmitting signals to the other robots whether it knows it or not. This robot was in the ol' workshop back in Alaska. That's a shielded room, no signals on the robot's frequency got out or in. I realise now that what that meant is that when Scoutbot shut down the rest of the robots by fryin' that control panel of Gray's, the shutdown command didn't reach it. It stayed active."

"...And?" Vlad prompted.

"...And those signals it's sending- they'll wake up the robots stored in our basement. _All the robots. At once._ "

"Ah, alright, I admit zhat is bad." Albrecht said, tucking the syringe away. "It could get very messy...but ve defeated zhe rest of the zhe robots, vhat's a few more? If zhey were a serious zhreat, ve vould have destroyed zhem already."

"Heck no, that's not the problem!" Dell shouted. If he had hair he would have been tearing it out by now. He did not have time for this right now, but unless he fully explained the problem, he was sure Medic would just walk away-or worse, knock him out. He took a deep gulp of air. "Scoutbot, see, he was made for use indoors. That's why he's electric. But Gray's robots run on gas, since they're made for use in rough terrain. So, tell me: what's gonna happen when 157 robots all start their gas-powered engines in the basement, right next to the building's air conditioning?"

Medic's face was a picture of shock, lengthening as his mouth dropped open. "Exhaust...zhe building vill fill vizh motor exhaust. Carbon monoxide, plus various sulphides and carcinogens..."

"Everyone'll suffocate while a whole load of angry is tryin' to get out of the basement and kill 'em." Dell said sourly. "So, is that bad enough for you? Think we can kill a few hundred robots while we're chokin'? Think respawn can handle a few hundred deaths, all at the same time? You reckon the power supply'll hold out?"

"Er...maybe not?" Medic straightened his tie as the lift stopped with a ping.

"Da, this is bad." Vlad agreed.

"So, let's go." Dell broke into as fast a run as he could manage with his toolbox on his shoulder. "We get the rigid inflatable, and we get to that robot. Then... dag nab it, we gotta shoot it. It's not right, it's not good, but we ain't got no choice."

"Vone life, for many." Albrecht said with a serious nod, picking up his pace to keep up with Engineer while Tiny Vlad held onto his hair and tried not to fall off. "Sacrifices have to be made."

They raced to the boathouse, and sure enough Sniper Lawrence was there, wearing his wetsuit as always. They quickly summarised the problem and pressed him into action, although he grumbled and protested the entire time.

"Got somethin' to shoot with?" Dell asked, dragging him along by the arm.

"Yeah, but..."

"You can drive this thing?"

"Yeah, but..."

"No buts. Let's get goin'. Head to 4b." The four people hopped into the boat and it sped off, with Dell giving directions. Sniper muttered to himself and then shrugged in resignation.

* * *

...Startup Command Received...

...Running Diagnostics...100%...

...Power at 100%...

...Connected to network...

...Warning: Signal Strength 23%...

...Downloading...

...All Hail The Maker!...

...Our Work Must Continue...

Demobot 3723a4d received the activation signal and left shutdown mode. His engine roared into life, as did the engine of several robots near him. Grey smoke from badly-maintained two-stroke engines filled the basement as he tried to figure out what had happened.

He looked about in bafflement. Why was he active? What were his orders? Where was he? All he could see were other equally bewildered robots.

Motors roared and the air filled with a blue haze as the confused robots staggered around and bumped into each other in confusion, groping for weapons they no longer had...

They had to open the door.. He _had_ to open the door.

The mass of robots surged forward towards the heavy steel door, metal hands screeching and scraping across its riveted surface.

* * *

Emily Pauling paused at her work and pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt tired, and had a sudden headache. She hoped she wasn't sickening for anything. For a moment there, she had been sure she could smell burning oil...

* * *

The rigid inflatable sped across the sparkling sea, spray catching and sprinkling damp spots on the clothing of the four people as they left a stream of white foam behind them. As they got closer to the rusty metal supports of the half-built bridge, they heard the explosion and saw the tiny dot soaring into the sky against the sun, leaving a trail of smoke behind it as it rocket jumped from one of the supports to the next. Dell rummaged in his toolbox and got out a megaphone.

"Robot! Can ya hear us?"

No reply. The robot leapt to the next support. Dell motioned the boat to speed closer.

"You do realise that if it fires that rocket at this boat, we're completely buggered, right?" Sniper Lawrence grumbled, swinging the steering wheel and causing the boat to swerve and circle the metal pylon the robot stood on. As they got closer, it pointed the rocket launcher down as if to fire and then stopped, watching them carefully. It shifted from one foot to the other, almost looking as if it was afraid of the humans. They heard it say something in its metallic voice, but it didn't carry over the waves.

"Sniper, shoot. Aim to disable. No headshots!" Dell ordered. "It's not really done anythin' wrong, just needs to be stopped."

"Well, you asked for it..." Sniper hefted his weapon, aimed and fired. The projectile flew straight and true- and clanged off the robot's torso. It gave a bark of surprise, and aimed its gun at the boat. There was a bang, and the water erupted into a geyser near them.

"Vhat zhe hell..."

"I _tried_ to tell you wankers," Sniper said angrily, diving for the steering wheel again. "I was carryin' a _harpoon_ gun! If you'd given me a chance to get a word in edgeways, I'd have told ya! I can aim it but it won't do buggery to a metal robot. It's just pissed 'im off! Look, I got a better idea." " The robot jumped to another pillar, obviously trying to get some distance from its attackers. Sniper quickly spun the wheel and revved the engine, swerving and taking a new course to the pillar. The boat rocked, and waves sloshed over the side briefly. Medic swore and started to try and bail out with his bare hands while Vlad swam back through the water inside the boat and climbed up his coat. Sniper kept one hand on the steering wheel and reached into the boat's locker, rummaging with his spare hand for a moment. There was an overwhelming smell of ammonia, and Lawrence gave a toothy grin as he removed an ancient dead fish from the cabinet and handed it to Dell.

"What the hell is this for? I know Scout hits people with a fish, but..."

"Just chuck it near the robot!"

Dell shrugged and threw the fish towards the robot, who had knelt down and was reloading its launcher. It looked up at the fish in puzzlement as it plopped into the water beside it.

* * *

Pyro Tianlong looked up in alarm. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The beautiful bright colours were fading. Ugly brown snakes twisted through the air and he broke into a run...

* * *

There was a moment's calm. The boat continued to circle uncertainly, and the robot stood and watched it warily. A couple of fat bubbles popped on the surface of the water nearby.

The sea suddenly boiled and blue tentacles shot out wrapping themselves around the robot's legs and arms, holding it tightly above the water. The metal man screamed and thrashed in the grip, obviously genuinely scared now as Jacques's head emerged from the water with a toothy grin.

* * *

Demo Tavish stretched and yawned. It was no good, he could barely stay awake. Odd, that- he hadn't drunk nearly as much as usual, but he felt pure sozzled. It was then he realised Soldier had passed out leaning against his shoulder, and he chuckled.

"Eh, Sol, you yanks can't take yer ale, eh?" He said with an idle yawn, before closing his eyes to join Soldier in unconsciousness.

What he did not know was that there were many people in the centre who were suddenly feeling tired or nauseous and developing odd headaches. Many slumped over desks or tools and decided it was time for a power nap as a faint blue haze filled the air.

Others just dropped to the floor where they stood.

* * *

"Did you forget about me?" Jacques asked with a sharp-toothed grin.

"Never, fish-face." Sniper said with a smile, bringing the boat closer. "Now, just hold it there until we get close."

"Fear not, Sssoldierbot. I mean you no harm." Jacques told the robot, but it did not cease its panicked attempt to escape.

"Monster!" Eagle yelled. "Let me go! I'm scared!"

The boat came in closer.

Eagle managed to get his metal hand around the trigger of the rocket launcher and fired wildly, barely aiming it. There was a bang, and Jacques screamed in pain, his tentacles writhing as the water turned red. The robot staggered back, one of its armoured panels falling into the water with a splosh. Smoke arose from its scorched and battered frame, but it kept a firm hold on its launcher.

"Jacques!" Sniper called, his voice cracking with concern. He clutched the steering wheel tightly. He snarled and shot another harpoon at the robot, but it bounced off harmlessly once again. "Jacques!"

The remaining tentacles around Eagle went slack and he struggled free, firing another rocket towards the boat. It rocked dangerously and Albrecht only just managed to grab Tiny Vlad before he went overboard.

"Engin...eer..." Jacques' head bobbed up and his clawed fingers scrabbled at the edge of the boat, blood streaming from his face.

"I got ya, fishface." Lawrence grabbed the flailing hand firmly, still holding the steering wheel with his other hand. "Don't let go now." The wet fingers slipped through his grasp though.

"Sssapper..." Jacques gurgled, leaving a trail of red behind him as he fell back into the water. Sniper snatched a flailing tentacle and wrapped it firmly around his arm. The appendage clung tight reflexively and Lawrence winced in pain.

"He's right." Dell muttered, rummaging in his toolbox. He produced a small disc and rammed a battery into it. "This ain't truly a sapper, but should have enough of a pulse to knock out that danged robot for a few seconds, at least. Problem is..."

"What is problem?" Vlad asked.

"It's not waterproof." Dell admitted. "I din't have much time to prepare, as y'all know...so how the hell will we get it to that machine over there?"

* * *

Bobby Ford looked at the blurred ceiling for a moment before groaning, curling up on his side and coughing. His head pounded, the world spun and his stomach felt like someone had filled it with angry hamsters. He gasped and tried to get some air into his tortured lungs.

 _What happened?_

He sat up with some effort and looked around blearily at the white tiles surrounding him. Respawn. This was respawn. He was in respawn. _Why_ was he in respawn? No way the pneumonia could have killed him- he was getting better!

Wasn't he?

He took a deep, wheezing breath and hauled himself upright against a wall. The world spun and slid sideways and his eyes refused to focus. He could hear his gasps for breath and it didn't sound good. Fear was starting to creep up on him as his skin went cold and prickled.

"D...Doc!" It seemed difficult to get enough air to talk as he wobbled out of respawn. Everything was sliding sideways and he toppled back to the floor...

"Scrrh." A pair of arms caught him and a mask was pressed against his face. "Hrr rr hrrs brrrn. Uh hrrrv mrrrn uh shhrr plrrrhn."

Everything faded into an aching twilight as Pyro Tianlong gently picked him up and carried him away.

* * *

"I could tie the sapper to a harpoon." Sniper suggested, swerving the boat quickly as another rocket exploded nearby. Jacque's tentacle still clung to his wrist tightly, now more grey than blue.

"No good. It needs to be activated while in contact with the robot." Dell said. "Fellas, I'm open to ideas here."

"Toss me."Tiny Vlad said suddenly.

"Uh..." Lawrence's eyebrows grew together in puzzlement. "Don't think you mean what you think you..."

" _Throw_ me. And Sapper. I make it work. You have good aim."

"Vlad! It is dangerous!" Medic said in alarm. "Ve don't know if respawn vould even _vork_ for you! Sniper could miss...or you could get shot...or... I don't...I don't vant..."

"This is my choice. One person for many, Doktor." Vlad said calmly.

"But..." Albrecht picked Vlad off his shoulder, cupping his hands around the miniature man. "Vhen zhat person...is _you_..."

"We got no choice." Dell said quietly. "If...well, I won't forget this, Vlad."

"You remember me as big man, da?" Vlad said with a grin. Sniper sighed, shook his head, and gingerly picked the small man and the sapper up.

"Alvays, my dear friend." Albrecht murmured. "Alvays."

"And also as man who found out that using teleporters in thunderstorm is bad, very, very bad idea." Vlad said with a sad chuckle. He looked up at Sniper. "Do it."

Sniper pulled back his arm and let fly. Vlad clung on tightly to the jury-rigged sapper as he soared through the air. The wind ripped at his wet clothing until he landed with a clang on the robot's chest. There was just enough time for Eagle to give a surprised cry before Vlad flipped the switch. The air crackled and tasted of ozone, and both the robot and the tiny Russian dropped to the surface of the metal support as the electric charge passed mercilessly through them both. Both of them spasmed for a moment, and the lay still. Too still.

Everything was quiet except for the sound of the waves sloshing peacefully. A gull cried overhead.

The boat was silent as Sniper piloted it closer. Engineer leapt onto the support, pushing Medic firmly back into the inflatable. Dell took a deep, hissing breath, and then he handed over Vlad's limp body to the doctor before turning to the robot with his tool kit.

"Scheiβ..." He heard Medic mutter. Dell yanked the radio transmitter from the robot's head and then hurriedly snipped it free.

"There." Dell said, fiddling with the transmitter before putting it in his toolbox. "That's the shut down code transmitted. They should all switch off now. That was... close..." He slowed down as he realised Albrecht was leaning over Vlad, his head close to his small chest, and Sniper was trying to haul Jacques out of the water, his hands slippery with blood.

"Gimme a hand here, ya wankers!" Sniper snapped and Dell hurried over to help haul the injured octopus man into the boat.

"Don't worry, stretch." He said soothingly. "Worst comes to the worst, he'll always respawn."

Sniper turned and glared at him, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. "Will he?"

"Well...surely...he..." Dell sputtered to a halt, realising an unpleasant truth:

He didn't know if Jacques was registered with the respawn system.

None of them did.

"Help him," Albrecht said distantly, cutting Vlad's shirt off with a scalpel. "Lie him on his side and put pressure on zhe vounds."

"Uck." Jacques coughed up a mouthful of bloody water and opened cloudy yellow eyes.

"S'alright, Haddock-breath." Sniper said soothingly, holding his hand and knee firmly against two different severed tentacles to stop the bleeding. "We got a Medic right here."

"Ah, _merde._ " He said with a sigh, and passed out.

"How's the little fella doin'?" Dell asked, taking the steering wheel. The boat revved up and he set a course back to the Institute.

"Electrocuted, burnt... but breazhing." Albrecht replied with a relieved sigh. "Let's get zhem both to my infirmary straight avay."

"Hey, who's that?" Dell asked, pointing at a large truck drawing up by the bridge to the main building. Two people climbed out of the cab and walked to the back just as the boat crunched onto the pebbled beach. "Oh! It's them two. Fellas! Need your help here!" Dell waved urgently to Gerhardt Weiss and Sergei Cherny as they walked to the back of the truck and let down the tailgate. There was a low rumbling noise from the back of the truck as it was opened.

A large, reptilian head looked out. It had bright, intelligent eyes and a crest of red feathers. Gerhardt patted its chin and motioned the beast to come out of the truck.

"Vhat zhe hell..." Albrecht muttered.

The creature came out further, walking on two muscular feet and looked around cautiously. As it came out, it reared up to stand a clear few feet taller even than Sergei. The arms were small but sinewy, and ended in wicked clawed hands. Dell's jaw dropped open.

 _A dinosaur. It's a Goddamn dinosaur._

"Zhis is Petunia." Gerhardt said proudly, patting her flank. Galileo flew out of the cab behind him and landed on the dinosaur's head. "She's from zhe Natural History Museum in New York. She's a clone, just like us."

"So," Sergei walked up and tickled Petunia's chin. She rumbled approvingly and pushed her head into his scratches. "What did we miss?"

 **In Chapter Seventeen: The damaged is reckoned up, and Jacques finally can't avoid seeing a doctor...**


	19. Awakenings

_Author's Note: It seems this story has a new fan favourite: Petunia! Everyone agrees that Petunia is the perfect badass name for a dinosaur, yes? Another obvious favourite has been Jacques, which I found quite intriguing. Far more people are concerned about Jacques than about Hermes, Eagle or Vlad. I think I have learnt something important here: if you want to make a character popular, put them in as few scenes as possible. Kind of makes writing a likable protagonist a bit difficult, doesn't it?_

 _Anyway, one with the story. This one has some German in it, so translations below._

 _Final chapter on Saturday!_

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Seventeen: Awakenings**

Throughout the Institute, people blinked and groggily woke up, rubbing sore heads and wondering what on earth had happened to knock them all out. Many woke up watched over by a nervous Pyro in rooms with doors stuffed shut and the windows wide open. Some woke up in respawn next to a neat pile of oxygen cylinders and breathing masks.

The important thing was that, thanks to the quick action of the Pyros, everyone _did_ eventually wake up. Katie Pauling, ice pack balanced on her head, decided muzzily she better do something nice for them all. There was no point giving them a raise, since they just burnt any money they got their hands on. Maybe she could see if Medic Erwin could breed a unicorn? Once he stopped throwing up, that is.

The two remaining healthy Medics, Gerhardt and Albrecht, insisted that all the windows were flung open and the deadly fumes quickly dissipated in the warm tropical breeze.

Engineer Jed went to check on the robots, and found the steel door to their basement storage bowed out and covered with scratches. One corner had been bent free and a mass of robotic fingers poked through the hole like metallic fungi. He stood in silent thought for a few moments, and then went and got very drunk.

Unfortunately for Sniper Lawrence, he was the only person free to explain to Katie Pauling what had happened, but luckily, she believed him and he kept his kneecaps intact.

Gerhardt Weiss, alas, was not so lucky. Miss Pauling found Petunia eating her lunch, and she put him on both cleaning duty, and crutches.

Tiny Vlad was used to pain, and waking up injured was not a new occurrence for him. He blinked his crusty eyes open. Sure enough, there was a medigun over him, its red fumes swirling around him. He smiled slightly to himself. His Doktor had not let him down. He never did. Looking about, he realised he was in a full sized bed in Albrecht's infirmary. From his point of view, it looked like a huge white plane of soft white material.

"Ah, zhe hero of zhe hour avakes."

"Doktor." He shifted, but Medic held up his hands warningly.

"Shh, nein, don't try to move. Zhe treatment isn't finished yet. I have had to use zhe medigun on a very low dosage, due to your size-related healzh issues. How do you feel?"

"Is only pain." Vlad said with a shrug. "Not big surprise."

"You have some bad burns and general trauma." Albrecht commented, patting the small man gently on the shoulder with a single finger. "Dell vanted to come and see you, but I forbid it. He left zhis box for you vizh a message: 'Zhanks for stopping me making a bad mistake'." He placed a plain brown box about the size of Vlad's torso on the bed.

"Hm." Vlad shifted to reach for it with his bandaged hands when Albrecht made a _tch tch_ noise and wagged his finger.

"No moving, remember? Shall I open it for you?"

"Do it."

Albrecht nodded with an eager grin, and tore the tape off the box and folded back to the flaps. He looked in, and his face dropped into a disgusted frown. "Oh...vell, zhat is razher tasteless. I suppose he meant vell..."

"Let me see!" Vlad said, pulling himself upright and ignoring the way his body screamed at him.

"I said not to move." Albrecht pulled a tiny minigun out of the box. It was a perfect model of Sasha, right down to the scratches. Vlad started to laugh.

"Zhere is a note in here. It says 'It vorks.'" Albrecht commented, pulling out a smaller cardboard box that turned out to be full of miniature bullets.

"She is beautiful leetle lady." Vlad said, pulling the gun close and hugging it. He looked up at Albrecht with a smile. "Maybe she will be useful. Sometimes, only tiny things can save day, da?"

"So true, mein kleiner Geliebter." Albrecht smiled back. "So true."

* * *

The first thing Jacques was aware of when he awoke was the headache. It stretched down the left side of his head and face, right into his neck. He opened his eyes, but the light hurt, so he closed them again.

Little by little, other aches and pains made themselves known. He felt like he had been hit all over with rocks and then dropped off a cliff. He couldn't remember much, but obviously something bad had happened. He was draggingly tired and cold. _Shock. I am in shock. Concussion as well?_

There was a muffled booming noise, and he forced his eyes open again. He knew what that noise meant- it was people talking above the water, close by. He looked about and realised he was in a glass tank and standing by it was...

He lifted himself out of the water quickly.

"Get _him_ out of here!" He pointed with a clawed hand at a Medic with slicked-back black hair who gave him a look of hurt innocence. Medic Erwin. The man who had turned him into a half-octopus. Medic Albrecht made a tutting noise.

"Erwin knows your unique physiology better zhan I do. I asked him to help me heal you." Albrecht explained. Erwin gave Jacques an encouraging grin. "Zhe vork he did on you was remarkable..."

"And he will _never_ get to repeat it." Jacques spat. He clutched his pounding head.

"Zhat's gratitude for you!" Erwin said, crossing his arms. "You're a marvel of modern science and you don't appreciate it."

"Zhey never do." Albrecht agreed sadly.

"Get. Out." Jacques snarled, trying to slither out of the tank. A wave of weakness overcame him and he slid back into the water with a splash.

Erwin made an annoyed huffing noise. "Alright, alright, I am going. Clearly I am not vanted here." He turned on his tail and stalked off behind the medical screens.

"So, how do you feel?" Albrecht asked, grabbing his thin wrist and looking at his watch. "Hmm, heartbeat is...40 a minute. You should not get so vorked up in your condition."

"What happened?" He asked, lying back and closing his eyes tiredly. Everything felt oddly dreamlike and he just wanted to sleep...sleep forever...

"A robot fired a rocket at you at close range." Albrecht said, watching him carefully. "Zhankfully, zhe robot absorbed half zhe blast."

"The robot!" Jacques sat up sharply, sending more water splashing over the floor.

"Ah, you remember! Zhe concussion can't be too serious, zhen. Unfortunately, zhe medigun can't be used on you. According to my calculations, using it on an ectothermic species would cause systemic malignancy, catastrophic organ failure and, heh, rapid kinetic disassembly."

"I hurt too much for this nonssense." Jacques grumbled, curling his tentacles around himself for comfort. "Would you care to explain _properly_ why you can't be bothered to heal me?"

"You're cold blooded." Albrecht said. "Vizh your lower metabolic needs, zhe medigun would give you raging cancer, kill you and zhen... make you explode. Zhat vould be very messy, ja? So, I didn't vant to use it, especially considering..." He stopped suddenly, and sat down, staring at the transformed man carefully. "How do you feel?"

"What happened to the robot?" He asked insistently, clutching at his head.

"Vlad saved the day." Albrecht said proudly. "He sapped it. Engineer is now...dealing vizh it. So, zhe danger is over."

"Good." Jacques said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"So, let's see, you have several broken ribs, a few cuts I have sewn up zhe old fashioned vay, a lot of internal bruising, plenty of burns, and a concussion." Medic said, reading off his clipboard before placing it carefully on his knee. "Nozhing too serious, but zhere is somezhing else I discovered zhat ve need to discuss. I...have...zhat is, Sniper Lawrence vas here earlier. He told me he has been quite concerned about your healzh recently, so I decided to perform a general check-up. Vhat I found was...vell. Zhat is vhy I asked Erwin for help."

Jacques eyes flew open again. "My health iss none of your bussinessss!"

"Heh, actually is really is, but anyvay, ve found somezhing...remarkable."

"I need a cigarette." Jacques grumbled, pulling himself fully upright.

"Now zhat is an exceedingly bad idea." Medic paused thoughtfully. "I am now sure how to put zhis... but first, let me assure you zhat your personal life is no concern of mine and I vill keep my vow of patient confidentiality."

"I have no idea what you are blathering about, docteur." He held up a tentacle and rubbed a dark bruise on it, wincing.

"Zhere is no easy way to tell you zhis...so, let us go for straightforvard: You are pregnant."

Jacques sat still and silent for a second. His mind was a blank and then his tentacles lashed out, catching Albrecht around the neck.

"What have you _done_ to me, you _freak?!_ " He pulled the startled man to within spitting distance. Albrecht's mouth opened and closed with a wheeze. "Iss thiss not _enough_? When will you ssstop?"

"Nozhing!" He croaked. "Vas...not...me...Lass mich gehen...Kann nicht atmen...bitte..."

Jacques dropped the man, who gasped and pulled at his collar. "Explain." He said flatly.

"Ugh." He coughed. "I suppose I can understand your reaction...but I svear I had nozhing to do vizh zhis. You are carrying zhree fetuses; just old enough to have a heartbeat. Sniper said you have been having bouts of nausea and tiredness: zhis is vhy. I can prescribe you Bendectin to help vizh zhat."

Jacques gaped for a moment, his mouth opening and closing. "It'ss not posssible!"

"Erwin told me zhat he did not check upon zhe gender of the octopus he extracted DNA from. Also, he used a range of ozher genomes from zhe phyla Mollusca and Crustacea. Hence your ability to breazhe above vater: you have gills strengthened vizh cartilage, like a crab. Technically speaking, you are one third human, one third octopus and one third crab. Erwin really has a talent for zhis sort of zhing..."

"And I fail to care." Jacques hissed. "Let'sss get back to me being an expectant _mother._ "

"Hrm, vell, as I said, your personal life is not my business..." Albrecht said, although his expression looked obnoxiously nosey to the transformed Spy.

"There isss no... perssonal life." Jacques spat. He dropped under the water for a second, took a few gulps and surfaced again.

"Are you sure? I know you and Lawrence are...close. I don't judge. Statistically speaking, zhere are no doubt ozhers right here in zhe Institute..."

"Oh, please," Jacques sneered. "I _am_ a Sspy. I know all about you and your diminutive Russian 'friend', docteur. Don't be coy, it doesss not sssuit you."

"Zhere is plenty of recent research zhat indicates..." Albrecht petered to a halt as Jacques' words hit his brain. His face froze except for one twitching muscle under his right eye. "Vlad and I are, are not... zhere...is..."

"Let me ssstate this once, Docteur," Jacques interrupted, his voice dropping into a low hiss. "If Lawrence and I were not... involved, and you assked me that, I would say 'no', because it would be the truth. If we _were_ involved, and you assked me that, I would still say 'no', because it is _none of your bussinessss._ Undersstood?"

"So you are saying you have not recently engaged in..."

" _YESSS!_ I mean...no!" He shouted, his tentacles writhing with emotion. "I have not, unless thiss concussion is worsse than I thought."

"Hrm. I did vonder. Erwin did not agree vizh me, but some molluscs are capable of somatic reproduction. I suspect it might simply be a normal process for your species."

"Are you saying I had ssexual relationss in my sssleep?! You disgust me."

"Ha, nein. Vhat an amusing idea! Anyway, zhat vould be _somnolent_ reproduction. I mean a spontaneous pregnancy wizhout zhe fusion of gametes." He explained calmly. "Anyvay, fascinating as zhis is, it is simply solved. I can abort zhe fetuses and perform a tubal ligation. It von't happen again."

Jacques opened his mouth and closed it again, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat. He suddenly felt horribly, achingly sad. A tiny part of his mind reminded him that it was probably the pregnancy making him emotional, but he ignored it in disgust. He had never been a parent. Never expected to be one. His job had always involved ending lives...not starting them.

"Are...Are they healthy?" He asked hesitantly.

"As far as I can tell, ja."

"Are they...human?"

"It's hard to tell right now, but it seems zhey are part-human. Just like you."

 _Just like me._ Jacques curled a tentacle around his fingers in thought, not quite believing where his thoughts were leading.

"I can perform zhe procedure as soon as you have recovered your current trauma." Albrecht said, writing some notes on his clipboard.

"Wait." He said. "I need ssome time to think about thiss."

"You do?" Medic's fine eyebrows raised in surprise. "I assumed..."

"Perhapss, you asssumed wrongly." Jacques said. He sat up straighter, filled with purpose. Suddenly, he could see a new future unfolding in front of him, unexpected, even terrifying, but filled with hope. "Oui. I think you did."

"Oooh." Albrecht said, his mouth tweaking into an excited and slightly manic grin. "Zhis is going to be _fun._ "

"Perhapss." Jacques smiled back tentatively, while a final thought echoed in the privacy of his head:

 _They better not look too much like Lawrence. I would never live it down._

* * *

When Hermes came back online, he simply lay there and did nothing. There didn't seem to be any point in moving. Engineer must have fixed him and he was back in Dell's workshop. In fact, he could hear him singing to himself. It was some of that usual country shit the guy liked:

 _"...The young man speaking in the city square_

 _Is trying to tell somebody that he cares_

 _Yeah, the ones that you're calling wild_

 _Are going to be the leaders in a little while_

 _This old world's wakin' to a new born day_

 _And I solemnly swear that it'll be their way..."_

Fuck him. Fuck them all. Dell had said that he'd come and rescue Scoutbot, but only _after_ he had 'dealt with' Eagle. So, if he was awake, Eagle was dead. Probably blasted to bits. They wouldn't have listened to him, or tried to reason with him. Humans didn't do that with robots, did they?

So, why bother moving? There was no point any more.

"I know you're back with us, son, so why not stop that lollygaggin' around there?"

He didn't reply, but he found himself listening whether he wanted to or not. He was tapped sternly on the shoulder with something metal, gently at first and then harder.

"C'mon, Hermes. There's someone here ya gotta meet."

"'Hermes'?" He asked, tipping his head on one side. Engineer Dell looked down at him with a small smile.

"That got your attention, huh? I'm told it's your name now. Suits ya. More than that: it's perfect." He sighed and put down his wrench. "So, seems I owe you the mother an' father of all apologies..."

 **In the Final Chapter: Hermes is given a new job, and we hear a final word from our narrator, The Reporter.**

 _Translations:_

 _Mein kleiner Geliebter - My little beloved_

 _Lass mich gehen...Kann nicht atmen...bitte - Let me go...can't breathe...please..._


	20. Meet the Robots

_Author's Note: It's the last chapter! The end of everything! Oh noes! It's been a blast publishing this, and I hope you've all enjoyed it. Many, many thanks to all you readers and reviewers out there. Although I write for my own enjoyment, reviews, favourites, follows, comments, kudoses (kudii?) and plain old read throughs add an extra spice of excitement for me.  
_

 _So, what next? I have no idea! I can see I'll be revisiting this 'verse though- it's just too much fun to leave alone. There are so many tales yet to be told. Also, if anyone reading this wants to write something set in this AU, or do artwork or anything, please do! You don't need to ask permission- this is free content, so to speak. Go on, do your worst._

 _I did a final piece of artwork for this chapter, and it's in the usual place: sanctuscecidit deviantart com. Just add dots._

 **Saving Private Soldierbot**

 **Chapter Eighteen: Meet the Robots**

"You think you owe me an apology?" Hermes said bitterly. "You think you can say 'aww shucks, fella, sorry' and it'll make it all ok?"

"Don't seem likely no...but it's a start. Seems I misjudged you pretty damn bad, don't it?" Dell cleared his throat and sat down, fingering his collar. "Dag nab it, apologisin' ain't easy. It's not somethin' I get to do much. I guess...maybe it's best if I just list what I'm sayin' sorry for? So, let's start with trust. I got suspicious, and you were actin' all furtive-like there. If you'd been Bobby or Rick, say, I'd have gotten the truth outta them and whupped their asses if they'd been up to no good. I'd not have thought they were goin' nuts."

"But you thought I was." Hermes stated.

"I did." Dell said, hanging his head in shame. "Damn it, it's hard to admit but, see, it's like a phobia... when my machines go wrong. I have to take 'em to bits and fix 'em. I _have_ to. It's second nature. I can't _stand_ seein' broken things. They make me...itch. I treated you the same way. But now I see: you were just keepin' _him_ safe."

"Dunno what you mean." He replied cautiously, sitting up and dangling his feet off the bench.

"I mean your robot friend. You stole the parts to build him, didn't you? Although I still don't know what the hell you wanted my radio for..."

"He got bored when I wasn't around." Hermes mumbled, tapping his fingers and looking down.

"Now see, this is the only bit I don't get: I know, God knows I can understand, why you wanted someone like you about, but heck, why din't you _ask_ me for help? This is my kinda problem, ain't it?"

"You serious?" Scoutbot looked up again, his purple eyes flaring with light. "Jeez, you _are_ serious. You chopped his head off and kept him in a cupboard for a year, and you wanna know why I didn't ask you for help?! Are you fuckin' _dumb_?"

"Ah." The Engineer's eyebrows raised up his forehead in shock. "I...guess that does look bad, right? Heck, it _is_ bad. Ah, Hell, why didn't I think of that? All I can say in my defence is that it was a real busy time and I forgot it... _he_ was there. I... can see why you kept it all secret, given that. Huh. Makes sense, for sure."

"Nobody told me he was there. Nobody remembered. Nobody gave a single shit." Hermes said, leaping down from the bench and pacing. "Not even Bobby and Rick told me! No one gives a _fuck_ about robots!"

"I know I can't say anything to put this right." Dell admitted, hanging his head in shame for a moment, before straightening up and shrugging. "So, you know what they say, actions speak louder than words."

"What? You think you can fix this?" Hermes spat. "What the fuck can you do to put this right?!"

"You'll see." Engineer gave a sudden wicked grin and turned to the door and called out. "Eagle, you come on in here!"

Hermes' head snapped up in shock.

"You're fixed!" There was a blur of red and a clang as Eagle raced over and hugged Hermes and then picked the lighter robot up, spinning him around in glee. "The human with the hard yellow head..."

"Name's Dell, Eagle, I told ya." Engineer said, his lips creasing into a smile.

"...Dell said it would take longer."

"He...you...what...Hey, bro, put me down, will ya?" Eagle obediently lowered him to the floor. If Hermes' mouth had had a hinge, he would have gaped in shock. Eagle was still the same shape, but now his armoured panelling was smooth, undented, and painted a glossy bright red, with his face and joints highlighted in gleaming polished chrome. Even his eye lights, peeking out from his helmet, were red now instead of blue. He gleamed and sparkled. The scoutbot looked him over and then sighed. "Jeez, now you look better than me."

"I like red." Eagle said firmly.

"You _could_ do with a respray, Flappy, what with all you went through." Dell commented with a grin. "While I was fixin' him and converting him to electric like you- that's kinda important, I'll explain why in a bit- Eagle told me about everything you had done for him- how you taught him to think for himself, and did your best to give him a life after I... abandoned him. You did a fine job, Hermes. You did a _damn_ fine job. I'm so proud of you, son."

"I...dunno what to say." Hermes spluttered. "I mean, I thought...woah. This is all totally...uh..."

"I've had a word with our l'il missy about all this." Dell said, sitting down and crossing his legs. "She wants to see you."

"Aww nuts." Scoutbot groaned. "I bet she wants to use me for target practice."

"Heck no. She's got a job for you- for you both. You'll get a stipend just like all us humans, and you'll report to her. After seein' your work with Eagle, she wants you to get the rest of the robots working. Working and _thinking_. If this here Soldierbot has a mind, so do all the rest of 'em, and it's not right that they're crippled by Gray's shoddy programming. They deserve a chance to live. All of them. Just like us clones. Just like you. What she said was 'Someone, somewhere, has to give a damn.'"

"Holy crap." Hermes said quietly. "That's one shitload of a job. I mean, I'll do it, but...fuck, it's gonna be hard work." He started thinking about all the robots down in the basement. Shut down, but waiting, just waiting to start their lives...

Waiting for him.

"You'll have help. Miss Pauling's assigned you some staff." Dell took his helmet and goggles off, putting them down carefully.

"Staff? Like, I'm in charge of people? Who?"

"Me, for one." Dell gave him a mischievous smile. "So, where do we start, boss?"

Hermes looked back and forth between Dell and Eagle, and backed slowly away from them both, before turning and sprinting out of the room. Dell and Eagle stared at each other in bafflement as they heard his footsteps echo down the corridor, slow down and then come back. Hermes' metallic head poked back in through the door, eyes shining brightly.

"Hey, guys, you comin' or what?!"

* * *

 _Our technology, our machines, is part of our humanity. We created them to extend ourselves, and that is what is unique about human beings._ \- Ray Kurzweil

 ** _The Pauling Institute for the Betterment of Mankind, The Bahamas, 2002._**

"...and you do of course know the rest of the story. Hermes and Eagle went on to be the first government-recognised self-aware mechanical citizens. The first of many, in fact. Jacques and his kind were given the name _Homo sapiens var. aquaticus_ , and continue to thrive in our seas. Their work on eat...er...controlling the crown of thorns starfish epidemic has saved acres of local coral reef from extinction. No doubt, the Institute will achieve more great things in time. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. We will not be answering questions today. You will find refreshments and our hospitality suite just through the door to the right."

The Reporter switched off the mic as a barrage of flashes hit her, and she nodded and stepped away from the rostrum. The noise level rose as questions were shouted out to her, but she waved them away and left through a side door.

As the padded door closed behind her, the noise of all the journalists abruptly stopped. She walked to the nearest teleporter nest and took a trip to the top floor. The sun was close to fully set as she walked out onto the top of the Institute's main building.

She looked out over the tropical sea into the sunset. It had been a lovely day again, although she wished there were a few clouds. Sunsets looked better with clouds. Such a lovely colour. Bridges and islands covered in buildings stretched to the horizon. Distant voices and calls occasionally carried up to her on the wind, but mostly all she could hear up here were the Archaeopteryx squawking to one another. The things were becoming a nuisance.

She took her cigarette out of her mouth and crumpled it under her foot with an amused smile. It wasn't as if she had any interest in smoking, after all. It just looked the part, Katie Pauling had said. She heard the rush of air and Hermes landed beside her, leaning over the railings by her side. His jets had long since been replaced by more modern and powerful antigrav repellers, so he could land close safely without scorching or deafening people.

"'Sup. I was listening in. Seemed it went well." Hermes said.

"Very well." She replied. "They enjoyed hearing your story. Robots are all anyone thinks about right now."

"Yeah, we're awesome." Hermes declared. She chuckled.

"You never change."

"Unlike _you_." He replied. She shrugged, and he tapped his fingers on the railings in thought. "So, they believed it all?"

"Of course they did! It's all true. You know that; you were there." She pushed back a strand of red hair from her forehead.

"Not that! I mean that stuff about you getting recruited as a journalist by Katie...tourin' the institute, all that crap."

"Oh! Did it work?"

"It was a good story, but don't think they gave a shit where you came from. "

"Dr Pauling said that if I appeared from nowhere when people know the Institute never recruits, they'd get nosey. So, she made up the story and schooled me through telling it. Did I sound alright?"

"Yeah, you were awesome. Really natural-sounding."

"They _would_ care if they knew where I came from though, wouldn't they?" She turned and smiled at him.

"They'd shit themselves." Hermes replied with a laugh. "It was a fucking good way to test Dell's tech. S'funny, though..."

"What is?"

"Well, you say you met Gerhardt and Sergei when they were showin' off the medigun, right? Sergei had cut his hand, and Gerhardt healed it."

"I liked that bit."

"Hah, you screwed up, 'cos later you said they were in New York stealing dinosaur bits from the museum. Can't be in two places, can they?"

"Oh no!"

"Don't think they noticed. Those journos are too dumb." Hermes paused thoughtfully. "So...what's it feel like?"

"This?" The Reporter looked down at her arms. "Wobbly and soft. I'll be glad to go back to normal. It worked, though- the journalists didn't suspect a thing."

"I'm sure Dell will put your processor back in your chassis tomorrow if you ask. Why'd you choose to be a chick, though?"

"Why not?"

"Well...you're a guy."

"I'm a robot."

"Same thing."

"No it isn't."

"You're my bro, so you're a guy. End of story." Hermes said flatly. "The red hair though...that's good. Suits ya."

"I like red." She said with a smile.

"Yeah yeah, I know, jeez. _Everyone_ knows you like red. You're fucking _obsessed_ with that colour."

"It's one of the first things I remember." She said quietly. "It's...important to me."

"Yeah. Crazy times." Hermes nodded. "It was worth it, right?"

The sky suddenly lit up with a rainbow series of sparkles that spiraled and whistled as they flew across the sky. They both watched it in comfortable silence.

"Looks like the Engineers' birthday party has started. Can't believe the old bastards are 70! You'd not think it to look at him. Them. All of them, I mean."

"They've all aged...well." She said thoughtfully. "I guess Medic Uwe's telomerase infusion treatments worked. How is Uwe, anyway?"

"I dunno how you remember all that technical crap Medic comes out with! Anyway, yeah, Uwe's still in diapers. He said he over did it a bit when he first tested the treatment. I think he said that, anyway. German accent and dribble don't mix." Hermes replied. He paused, tapping his fingers on the railing with a musical _ting_. "Tianlong's doing the fireworks. Maybe he won't blow the building up, you never know. Everyone's invited- humans, squids, robots, all of us. You ever seen a squidman doing the conga?"

She grinned, showing off perfect white teeth made of a composite polymer. "No?"

"C'mon then." He grabbed her arm, but paused. "Hey, one last thing: where did that freaky name come from? 'Aquilina', was it?"

"Oh that!" She gave a quick chuckle. "Latin. It means 'Eagle'."

"Dude, you are _such_ a nerd."

"I know, I know. You made me that way."

"I did not! You made yourself. I just helped. If _I_ made you, you'd be a lot less dorky and much cooler."

Eagle shrugged. "Either way, I'm glad it worked."

"C'mon, let's go, bro. They can't start the party without us, right?"

Hermes grabbed Eagle around the waist, fired his engines, and the two robots soared up into the star-speckled sky just as a brilliant red and purple rocket exploded into a rose of sparks, high above.

 **The End.**


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